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10/19/2010 0:29:12   
Eukara Vox
Legendary AdventureGuide!


 Prologue
By Master Samak

Six bodies fell through a chillness that held no life. None were touched by light. As with insensate purpose they descended like crumpled leaves into an abyss of night. Even as ground stopped them a silence hung heavy. And then truly did the world go black. Warmth became cold. Cold became void. Life became Death...


Where now is your might, Eukara Vox? Why do you give in so easily to the Darkness?

The lifeless gaze of Kastio, lying motionless around his broken jars...

Eukara? Eukara! Where are you? Eukara!

Your soul is weak with frailty. I should have seen it long ago, but I have seen it now.

The rattling breath of Xor, reaching his last toward the crumpled raven Shreder nearby...

No! Where are you?! Wake up!

No longer will your secrets hide from me. I will take for what I have forfeited. You cannot stop me now.

The dripping blood of Fleur, imbruing the area around her sprawled body where Gianna lay, unmoving and without a glow...

Be silent! Awaken!

Your life… is… mine—

AWAKEN!


Eukara opened her eyes wide and gasped for the icy air, coughing without control as it set a freezing blaze inside. Ragged pain trembled through every part of her, and she could not find the will to move. Her vision crawled with phantoms while tears streamed down her face. She blinked but rendered nothing.

A shadow twisted over to her side and she felt a cold touch against her cheek, making her cringe. “Mistress Eukara… milady…” She concentrated on the voice. It sounded like Fleur’s, though so feeble. Her mind flashed with the young woman’s corpse, long dark hair strewn over unblinking and hollow eyes. The librarian shuddered and recoiled further from the touch.

“Please, Eukara, no. Fight this. Focus on the light. On the moon. Look for it. Please.” It really was Fleur’s voice. But there were only dark shadows around. How could there be… and then she saw a glimmer far up. Straining her eyes against the dark, blocking out the terrors and the evils and the grief wracking her mind, Eukara forced herself to concentrate only on what shone faintly above. Little by little the glimmer grew, spreading like a pale ripple and lifting away the veil of darkness. Far and above, Eukara could now make out a full moon weak in luster; the few stars beginning to emerge seemed much brighter. What meager light it did give passed through clusters of bare branches scraggily deformed betwixt themselves. They were in a forest.

At her side Fleur shifted, and Eukara returned her attention. The petite woman with long, black hair and fair complexion looked worriedly over her. The librarian smiled and almost went to tears when she recognized the friendly face, tired but very much alive. The horrific images of death now hardly seemed reasonable when she looked at the face smiling back, and Eukara pulled Fleur into a long hug, able to move again. For a time they just clutched each other, thankful to have someone there. Hearing the young lady begin to sniff, Eukara let go, but then faltered slightly. The assistant’s eyes appeared aglow in the dim reflection, though her back was to the moon. The instant she realized Eukara was looking at her again Fleur turned away. “Xor, please help me get her up.”

In an instant, the sound of hurried steps reached Eukara and a slender form clad in blue robes came into view. Relief mixed in with the archivist’s worry when he saw her. He stooped with Fleur and gently pulled Eukara onto her feet, backing away so she could have space, but darting in the moment after as her legs all but gave out. “Careful, careful. It’s still wearing off. We thought you were… dead…”

With moonlight giving sight to her eyes, so did Eukara’s other senses begin to register out of the dizzying rush. She became aware of a numbing cold, despite any vapor visible from her breath, and she saw shivers coming from her friends. Stillness oppressed them, making her feel that every sound, every movement, every heartbeat was unnatural and would not last. The very air reeked of fallow decay.

Something glittering and green caught the Head Librarian’s notice, and the voice of Gianna Glow called to her. Looking, she found the Time Fairie atop the shoulder of Kastio, who was walking quickly towards her, his jars clinking. They both looked exhausted. Eukara embraced the two with one arm, the other holding heavily onto Xor. “I’m so glad you’re all okay. The things I saw… what happened?” The tall one wearing jars stepped back slowly, his face in dismay.

“None of us know. After we all came around we saw you lying a ways off. You were so cold and still. We couldn’t find a pulse. Xor thought at first that you were under some terrible effect, but after he and Gianna tried reviving you… we didn’t know what to do… Look at where we are, Eukara…” Staring past him, she gazed around for the first time.

She and her companions stood in a small clearing. Entirely surrounding them was dense woodland stripped of both life and leaf. A thickening mist clung low to the ground, rising higher as it eddied away and enveloped the trees, obscuring all else in a fog that whispered of their confinement. Raised stones enclosed the group within the clearance, fenced lines of wrought iron bordering them in with what could only be markers of the dead. “What is this place?”

A piercing caw answered Eukara, and moments later the raven Shreder flew out of the darkness. Landing amongst the fallen leaves before them, he rasped in an echo,

“‘High is the moon tonight, its guiding light hid high.’
Asleep anon are the pow'rs of light, will-less against the sky.
Our eyes are opened now to fight, but we cannot arise.
We are condemned to terrible plight, and all has gone awry.”

Eukara frowned, but before she could open her mouth the raven had taken flight and soared into the night again. “What…?”

“We don’t know,” Xor answered, watching Shreder leave. “He spoke the same thing the moment we recovered and then flew off, presumably to scout a way out of here. Every few minutes he returns and says the same thing.”

“I don’t like the sound of that at all.”

Xor turned his face to hers, and she could see an uneasiness in his eyes. “None of us do. He’s never really hidden his words like that before. But some parts we’ve been able to make out. The ‘Our eyes are opened’ probably means the darkness we all rose out of. I don’t think we would be standing if the moon wasn’t here. But it felt like a lot more than just that. It didn’t let us… exist, or draw on any sort of energy, as though it suppressed the very life-force within us… as though we had died… like you… No, much more than I shudder to think about.”

Gianna nodded. “And it means that someone, or something, who knows this place is watching us. Waiting. I don’t think we were expected to get up.”

It was then that Eukara felt a harsh sound upon her ears and without warning lost all of her strength. A cry rang out behind her. Gianna said, “Fleur?” and the group turned. Ahead, clawing at something on a crumbling stone, lay the young female. She had her eyes clenched shut and was whispering something about not closing her eyes. Blood trickled from her, but they could not see where. Before they could get to her she shuddered and slid fully to the ground.

Gianna quickly alit from Kastio’s shoulder and floated down to the unconscious Fleur, a scarce moment before some shadowy blur slammed into the tall man and overtook him where he stood, the man and dark outline writhing through the air and into a winged statuette, smashing the stone and going beyond their sight, where the mist hung heavier. A shattering of glass and lingering cry preceded the silence.

Eukara screamed after him and the archivist and fairie immediately did what they could, placing themselves around her. The mist seemed thicker to their eyes. Everywhere they looked they thought they saw movement too fast to fix upon. The librarian still leaned onto Xor, her eyes now filling with tears, but when her gaze lingered on the scratches by Fleur she stifled a cry. No! And then she crumpled to the ground when the archivist’s support left her.

Fighting blurry vision, Eukara watched as Xor struggled off into the mist, dragged by tendrils darker than night which burned him with every touch. Off to her side, Gianna flung arcs after arcs of splintering green past Xor, searing the air before her and breathing harder with each spell as energy drained from her already tired body.

From out of the darkness Shreder suddenly flew upon the tendrils around Xor, cawing and clawing at the binds until they let go. As one, they whipped out and struck, the raven taking in the darkness before crumpling next to Xor’s outstretched hand.

Eukara comprehended none of this. Murmurs to her ears were all she knew as slowly the space around Gianna began to darken and all color left from her face. The fairie faltered where she was and in the next second collapsed, her small form lost underneath the leaves and the mist.

And then there was quiet.

Wincing, Eukara lifted her hand to the raised stone and began pulling herself up, unable to avoid the name scratched in. This could not be happening. When fully standing, she closed her eyes and felt for her power. It wasn’t there. Something was in the way. A rustle of the leaves behind her passed unnoticed even as she pushed against the obstruction in her senses, the hindrance easing away, but too late. Eukara whirled around.

Pure dread personified in a blackness where nothing lived lifted Eukara through the air and smashed her against the ground. Without breath, she gasped and rolled to pull herself up again. An utterance of words froze her inside when found herself face-to-face with the person she did not want to find here.

“Where now is your might, Eukara Vox?”

A little more than seven strides away stood a figure covered in dark and tattered robes, the ends curling away into shadow. Hunched over, he looked to be swaying ever slightly, his shallow wheezes flowing with the action. Eukara could see eyes of crimson staring back at her from within his hood, and she felt herself ask, “What have you become?”

“What do you think I’ve become!” The voice echoed harshly in her ears, the darkness seeming to get darker with each word. “Did you think I would stop searching because your master told me not to? Ha! Where is he now to rebuke me? After all I have learned, where is he now to save you?”

Anger burned through her at the insult to Archanias’s memory. For a brief instance, the image of dragonfly wings flared behind her as she took a step forward. “How dare you. He left me with the Library’s care, and you challenge that? Attack my own assistants—my friends?! How dare you think you can do this!”

The figure slowly curled upright, and what sounded like snarling and laughter emanated from him. “I have done this, Eukara Vox. You no longer know what I can do. Give me the knowledge I require, or each one of your friends will die before I rip it out of your soul.”

For the smallest of moments, in the space where time waits to join with another time, Eukara focused her view away from the shrouded man and instead to her associates and friends. She knew she had to bring pain to those she cared about, even while the world crumbled around her. Tears came to her eyes, but neither her gaze nor voice wavered when answered.

“Never. You will not freely take what is not yours. I will do everything I can to stop you, to my dying breath, if it means saving the rest from your grasp.”

A breath hissed from the man, one which Eukara swore bewrayed his grin. “I had hoped for nothing less.”

From the cloaked man came a growling and his very body changed more into insubstantial shadow than anything before he flew towards her, the growl grown into a raging shriek. Steeling against him, Eukara drew from within herself and answered with a shriek of her own—one of pain and agony. She fell to her knees as her entire body bent with torture and she screamed without sound. The man’s devilry had not left her. That cannot be… Anguish besieged every part of her body and mind, clouding over sanity, at the memories of life and of love, at the very place she most cared for. All would suffer the consequences because of her oversight. Whether by a spasm of pain, or by his force, Eukara raised her head to look into the man’s eyes, seething with victory, as he closed the distance and all else from her view. The sound of flight came to an end.

From where darkness could not exist came a surge of light and two slashes of silver. Move away. The man of shadow recoiled and was cast back to his place before, turning over through the leaves in an inhuman crawl as he became more corporal and rose to his feet. In the same instance, the pressures lifted from Eukara and she drew in a long gasp of air. Master Samak stood ahead of her, something disappearing from both of his hands, and he sagged and leaned forward, taking an unconscious step, working for breath. “You… you crossed a line. You will not touch her.” His voice came directly, marked by both a boldness and a whisper.

Slowly, laughter slithered its way toward the two. It sickened Eukara to hear it. “At last, we are all here.” He continued laughing and Samak’s hands clenched into fists. They were slowly dripping blood. “Very unwise of you to try something you no longer should.” His eyes narrowed. “It too crossed a line, no?”

Silence passed within the clearance, and it ended only when the one in darkened green gradually straightened and said, “Not if I can help it.” And then he turned and reached for Eukara.

With renewed fury, the man in shadows swung both hands over his body at the librarian. From his fingers leapt twists of crackling darkness, streaming at Eukara with frenzied aim, cutting through the stone with his name on it, reaching her like a strike of lightning. Samak closed his fingers over her shoulder and pulled, giving a cry of pain even before the lightning hit him. And then he screamed. For but a moment, Eukara was held terrified by the image of Samak throwing his head back and letting forth an unnatural scream of sufferance, fluxes of sound tearing at any who could hear, before all turned into white nothingness and then not.

The Head Librarian slammed into the large table and slid, coming to a halt inches before its edge. Other sounds of falls rained after her, and as she turned slowly over and saw all her assistants lying nearby, she could tell they were once more in the Library. But it did not look anymore like her Library.

Where illumination once streamed through the high windows of the working chambers, now only the dark gleams of moonlight lit up the room. Strands of prolonged intricacy traced their way about every wall and surface inside, silvery cobwebs thick around them. An enormous pile of scrolls covered the space where Eukara’s desk should be, but they were now thick with dust and corrosion, the smell of life no longer airing the place. From the corner of her eye, Eukara thought she saw something large scuttle across the opening of the large wooden doors into the hallway.

Groans turned the librarian’s attention back to her friends. They were all slowly picking themselves up from the floor… except for Samak. Eukara leapt to her feet, ignoring the discomfort, and crossed the short distance to him. The one in green was sprawled supine entirely upon the table, small lines of blood still dripping from his hands. His breaths came without rhythm, shallow and then deep. Never blinking, he stared at nothing above him, working for words, Eukara leaning in to hear, before his eyes closed.

“‘By the pricking of my thumbs…’”

< Message edited by Master Samak -- 9/2/2011 4:04:41 >
AQ DF MQ AQW Epic  Post #: 1
10/20/2010 22:28:33   
Eukara Vox
Legendary AdventureGuide!


 A Heart of Darkness
by Tiriel

You must understand, of course, that all the things I have done, I have done for Anariel. Or, perhaps it is more accurate to say it began in that fashion. Later, it was for her memory. You will call me selfish, call me evil, call me a demon, and yet the fact remains: what I have done, I have done for love. The crimes I have committed, the atrocities I have unleashed, each of them have been for the woman I loved, for the woman who spurned that love. I go forward unrepentant and resolved, knowing that I never again will be subject to the scorn of another who thinks themself to be better than I.

Anariel was beautiful, but when it comes down to it, she was an angel, so that is really to be expected. Yet, to me, she was the pinnacle of perfection, a Seraph of unparalleled beauty and skill. And when I saw her, how could I help but fall in love with her? Her skin was flawlessly smooth, her features perfect, the angle of her jaw, the lines of her face, the tilt of her head. Her eyes were a deep sapphire blue, possessing hidden depths in which burned a fire as hot as the forge of creation itself. Sharp and fierce was her gaze, able to pierce into the very soul of whosoever she gazed upon.

When first I met her, I was sent to bear a message to her command by the captain of the scouting party to which I had been assigned. I recall being transfixed by the sight of her, more regal by far in her glittering golden attire than any of the queens of the earth upon which she deigned to tread. We were sent to the earth to stave off the incursions of the demons of the outer realms, a bloody war unseen by mortal eyes, but one whose repercussions were felt nonetheless in the raging of the weather and the unrest of the earth itself. Her armor of ethereal gold shone, its brightness pale in comparison with the glow that radiated from within her. Her six wings extended, soft morning sun glowing through the pinions. All I could do was stare until she turned, her auburn hair stirred by the breeze, and I felt the weight of her regard upon me, like a weight crushing the breath from my chest.

I loved her; how could I not? I watched her, committing to memory each movement, each gesture, the timbre of her voice, the scent of her presence. For years I watched her, as around us the war raged, until one day I could no longer hide that which grew inside me. It ate at me like a cancer, and I knew that if I did nothing, if I did not speak, I should wither away to nothing.

And so, one night I approached her tent, my steps tremulous with anticipation and hope. I pulled the bell chord at the entrance, and caught my breath as she called out for me to enter. I did, and for a moment I could only stand in awe as Anariel turned to face me, her sapphire gaze piercing through me and rooting me in place. For a moment, an eternity, I was silent, until she cleared her throat, and I stammered out a greeting. “M-my Lady Anariel. I, I would speak with you, if I may.”

She nodded. “You may, Archangel. What is it you desire?”

“I, my Lady Anariel, I… What I desire, is you.” I had said it, there was no longer time to turn back. “I love you, milady, I have since first I set eyes upon your beauty, and as time has passed I have only grown to love you more.”

The silence that followed was deafening, stretching on and on, until it was broken by the sound that shattered my entire world. Laughter. She laughed at me. “Oh, do you? Tell me, Archangel, do you imagine that I, Seraphim, of the highest order of servants of the gods, could love you? One so far below my station?”

“M-m-my Lady, I…”

“Begone, Archangel, I have work to which I must attend, and no more time to waste with you.”

I fled, into the darkness of the night, unseeing, uncomprehending. For a long time I knew nothing, and then, then I felt it, a creeping sense of presence, as though some higher power surrounded me, supported me, and it was then I heard the voice, the voice that called to me, and set before me a destiny greater than any other that could have been imagined.

“Why these tears, Archangel? For what cause do you shed this salt river?”

Surprised and afraid, I looked about in confusion and anger, unwilling that any other should bear witness to my shame. “Who is there? Show yourself!”

“Who, what, when, why? All worthy questions, but then they matter not, little Archangel. I saw what happened to you, how the Seraphim spurned you. It is not right that a love so pure be denied.”

“Who are you?”

“The one who can give you what you desire.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can teach you, make you stronger, enable you to become stronger, strong enough even to win the heart of the woman who rejected you.”

I paused, suddenly uncertain, but that hesitation was swept away as soon as I realized the implication of what the voice had said. “You, you can? How?”

“I can teach you, give you the tools necessary to do what must be done.”

“Tell me what I must do.”

If it could be said that an unseen voice smiled, this one did. “To gain strength, you must eat, for to be stronger, you must take into yourself that which is not yours, and make it your own.”

“How?”

“Know.”

I fell to the ground, writhing as the cold, alien presence poured into me, crushing aside any hope of denial that I might have had with its sheer might. Not that I even wanted to resist. Still, the contact burned my mind, the touch of something so powerful, so, different, almost maddening.

“Now, little Archangel, you need only to feed.”

I stood tremulously, my fevered mind struggling to comprehend what had been implanted in it. “Wh-w-what are you?”

“I am That Which Hungers, and now, it is a Hunger you share.”

“What?”

It was gone. I knew that instinctively, though there was nothing to give any indication of this. I felt alive, more alive than I had ever felt before, and at the same time hungry, famished, as though without food I should die within moments.

There was a rustling from the underbrush nearby. I froze, every sense on fire as I felt the presence of life. It was small, a tiny spark, nothing more than a vole foraging, and yet, the Hunger…

On instinct I reached out, and a black tendril of energy shot from my hand, spearing the rodent. It shrilled a scream of pain, but I heard nothing, pure blissful heat surging through my body for an instant, and when I looked down the creature was dead. No, not dead, consumed, a shriveled, desiccated husk of what it once had been. Carefully, I reached out, touching the remains gingerly, only to have them crumble to a fine black powder.

I was nauseous, and yet, energized, exhilarated. I had sucked the creature’s very lifeforce away, making it my own. The Hunger. I hungered for the very essence of life itself, and by consuming it, my power would grow. The very notion was horrific, and yet, yet… I knew that with this, with this I could become more than I was. Stronger, more powerful, enough that Anariel would want me, power enough that I would never be denied again.

Small creatures at first, rodents, birds, I worked slowly up the food chain as I became more used to my new ability. The Hunger grew, pushing me to greater creatures, those with more lifeforce. How could I describe the first time I feasted upon a human, a truly sentient, truly intelligent creature? There are no words to describe the sensation.

After that, nothing was safe, nothing was sacred. Elves, dwarves, demons, and then, even angels. The war raged, but I cared for it no longer, I fought with the rest, and lived with the rest, but they were not my concern any more. All there was now was purpose, feeding the Hunger, growing stronger, winning Anariel.

Two years to the day of my humiliation, I strode once more into her tent at night, the look on her face almost laughable as she stared at me. “Archangel, I thought that I made it clear to you that I had no desire to waste further time with you?”

She was... older. It was strange, as though she had aged when such a thing was impossible. Something about her was off, not as my memory of her recalled, as though her perfection was marred, not what it once and been. “I am not the angel that I was before, my Lady Anariel. I am more now.”

“Yes, more annoying. Begone, Archangel, I do not love you, and I will never love you.”

The Hunger flared through me, mixing with my anger, but I merely smiled. “I love you, Anariel, and you will be mine.”

She rose angrily, her six wings extending fully as tendrils of fire swirled up around her. “Your insolence will be punished, Archangel. I—“

The spear of blackness took her directly through the chest, piercing her heart. The Seraphim blinked, her eyes confused as she stared down at the darkness that pierced her, soul freezingly cold as it leeched her very essence away. I exalted as her body crumbled away into dust, her essence joining to mine, becoming an inextricable piece of me.

Anariel was mine.
AQ DF MQ AQW Epic  Post #: 2
10/21/2010 23:46:42   
Eukara Vox
Legendary AdventureGuide!
Time of Darkness
by Drakyloid

The night is a mysterious time,
When everything hides, out of sight.
From shadows to thieves to the River Thyme
Nothing can be seen at night.

The sun sets, under the horizon.
The moon comes into view.
Stars appear, or sometimes none.
Streetlamps turn on, old or new.

While we sleep, there is a lot of activity.
Cats prowl through the streets at night.
The owls take off into the night with a cry of glee.
Bats appear from their caves, but without sight.

Vampires rise, those mysterious entities,
Wolves howl, piercing the silence of the night.
When they meet, they meet as enemies,
And they then will most likely fight.

The night is a mysterious time,
Where everything is out of view.
From shadows to thieves to the River Thyme,
Nothing can be seen but the odd few.
AQ DF MQ AQW Epic  Post #: 3
10/21/2010 23:56:36   
Eukara Vox
Legendary AdventureGuide!


 Darkwing
by Reaper0001

Ian ran. The gashes on his back burned as the pouring rain washed over him, mixing with his blood. He could hear the beating of his heart, his own shallow breathing as he ran for dear life. His legs felt as if they were made of lead, but still he ran. He endured the harsh punishment of running through bushes of bramble. In the distance, he could see the bright glow of a town.

Sanctuary.

Large, menacing wings beat the air above him. He stood only an inch from Death's shadow. But if he could reach the town, he would live another day.

The distant lights were nearer with every stride. His hope was rekindled as the settlement was only a few meters away. He was so close to safety, so close that he could not bear it. He pushed himself to sprint as swiftly as he could.

Not swiftly enough.

He shrieked in agony as the cold steel of a blade was driven into his left calf. With the sudden surge of pain, Ian fell to the ground, clawing at the icy, black dagger in his leg.

"Tsk tsk, it seems you have lost," a voice said.

The fallen man looked up in terror. A large black figure, wearing a cloak seemingly made of shadows, stood there with two wicked blades made of the same black metal as the dagger. Behind it were two terrifying obsidian-black wings, folded against its back. Ian dared a look at his captor's face.

A helm covered the hunter's head, forged into the shape of a demon's skull. Rain dripped from the two crooked horns of the helmet and the fangs of the mouth. To Ian it looked as if they were dripping blood. The eyes were simply holes in the metal. Nothing lay beneath it. Two empty voids, yet they seemed to stare straight into his soul.

"I really thought you would make it," the figure said in an almost sincere tone. "But you let a small thorn in your leg stop you."

The creature laughed cruelly as it savagely ripped the dagger from Ian's leg. He cried out in sheer agony as blood poured out from the jagged gash in his leg.

"Now," it said, raising a sword to his neck, "I will take what is mine."

"Please, spare me," Ian begged. "I have a family."

"So did I. Now look at me."

It lifted the helm from its head, revealing the hardened face of a warrior. It might have been handsome, if not covered in the scars of war. His hair was as black as the night, and fell to his shoulders.

"Wh-who are you?"

The creature lowered his swords.

"I am Darkwing."

Ian's screams were lost in the roar of the storm.
AQ DF MQ AQW Epic  Post #: 4
10/25/2010 0:15:37   
Eukara Vox
Legendary AdventureGuide!


 The NecrOMNOMNOMNOMNOMNOMNOMicron
by ultrapowerpie

“At last, All Hallows' Eve will soon be upon us again!!!!! Soon, we will once again be able to unleash untold horrors upon Tipa and no one is allowed to stop us because it is a tradition of the Reapers!!!!! MUHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Grim bellowed.

“You know, Grim, have you ever thought that this ‘All Hallows' Eve’ thing is the reason why there may be citizens of this planet that aren’t particularly fond of us?” Loki asked.

“Absolute rubbish! Do you know the amount of garbage we have to put up with as the Reapers of this god-forsaken planet??! I swear, these people can’t even take care of their own monster problems when there’s literally thousands of journeymen… or whatever we call those dudes out there! Why do WE have to do all the cleanup when they should be doing it for us?” Necro countered.

“Adventurers, and you know that half of them are just noobs that get killed and get revived by rich families at temples so the adventurers can do their quests for them, do serve some sort of purpose…” Loki began, but was cut off by Necro.

“I don’t want to hear about their incompetency. While it’s very true that this holiday is very very very loosely based off of Halloween from the Real World, it’s our one chance a year to get revenge on the world of Tipa! And I look forward to it every year,” Necro grinned wickedly.

“Oh, but how can we top it this year? I mean, the stunt we pulled that one year…” Grim sighed, smiling knowingly and looking out at the horizon, if he could see one which he couldn’t since the Reapers were in their underground secret base.

“That reminds me… Grim, I was looking through the ancient ruins of the Ancient Necropolis…”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, the Ancient Necropolis, the one on the former continent of Fida that currently dwells in the stomach of Fenrir, the adorably cute wolf puppy that has the appetite of a black hole that could devour the entire Fictional Omniverse if left unchecked??!!!” Grim asked, horrified.

“Why yes, the very same Fenrir that thinks you’re a giant walking snack. Yeah, you’d be amazed just what kind of stomach it has. It’s actually like an entire universe in there… but anyways, I was exploring the area to see if I could unearth some ancient artifacts or something, and I found this book…” Necro trailed off, holding up the book dramatically.

It was a very ominous book, with black leathery binding and black pages. The book was locked up with a rather large black lock that somehow looked like Pac-Man, but with glowing red eyes of evil. In fact, the very same evil-looking Pac-Man symbol could be seen on all four corners of the tome that reeked of the Death Element, which is a very nauseating smell if you’re not used to it.

“GOOD GRAVY, MAN! Be careful with that thing! That’s the NecrOMNOMNOMNOMNOMNOMNOMicron!” Grim stated, horrified.

“Wait, don’t you mean the Necronomicon?” Necro asked curiously.

“No, other worlds have the Necronomicon. Our world has the NecrOMNOMNOMNOMNOMNOMNOMicron,” Grim explained.

“Why is it called that?

“It’s much faster and more enjoyable if I demonstrate it… Oh Reaver…”

“HOLD IT!” Loki interjected. “I am SICK of not being featured in these mini-adventures of yours! It’s always you, Necro and Jenna with the occasional appearance from Reaver for shenanigans. Well I’m sick of it! I’m already here in this mini-adventure and darn it I WILL be used!”

Grim and Necro stared awkwardly at each other for a few seconds and then shrugged. “Why, I’m sorry, Loki; I thought you were usually busy partying or flirting with the ladies or with…”

“Don’t mention her! Just tell me what I need to do!”

“Okaaaaaaaaay… uhhhhhh, just go over there and open the book that Necro’s holding…”

“Done!” Loki chuckled, using his wind magic to float the book over to him. Loki quickly opened the binding only to discover the book magically growing a mouth with huge teeth that quickly devoured him in one huge gulp before burping quietly and plopping open gently on the floor.

“Ohhhhhhhh, so THAT’S why you call it the NecrOMNOMNOMNOMNOMNOMNOMicron…”

“Yeah, it devours anyone who tries to open it. At first it was a great defense mechanism to prevent people from abusing it, until others figured that the book can be safely browsed once the first sucker gets eaten by it,” Grim shrugged.

“So this book has untold evil and power that was sealed away in the ancient Necropolis by the original Necromancers of Tipa to prevent abuse of it?”

“Yeah something like that. It’s not like it’s a tome accounting the ancient history of ‘The Old Ones’ and how to summon them or such rubbish. No, this book is actually practical in that it consists of powerful spells and summons and other stuff that could easily destroy Tipa if not half the Fictional Omniverse if it fell into the wrong hands,” Grim nodded sagely.

“I love how we have all these things that could destroy the very Omniverse that all fictional books exist in, don’t you?”

“Yeah, you really gotta love that… but anyways… the book’s open and it IS All Hallows' Eve here……”

“LET THE EVIL TORMENT ON TIPA BEGIN, MUHAHAHAHA… wait, what about Loki?”

“Oh, uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh… Yeah, we kinda need him, don’t we? He’s not like Reaver who’s expendable because he’s our main Comic Relief…. Hmmmmmmmmmmmmm…”

“Maybe there’s something in the book that can get him out?” Necro suggested.

“BRILLIANT! And while we’re at it, let’s unleash some evil upon Tipa! And also remember that evil and the Death Element is not always the same thing but are usually used together!”

And so Necro and Grim picked up the fallen book and began pouring through the ridiculously thick volume for plagues, pestilence and other stuff to unleash upon the poor poor planet (Yes, I know I killed the alliteration. Get over it).


“Look, Grim! It’s a picture of Fenrir! Awwwwwwwwwwwwwww, he’s so adorable!!”

“Egads! I knew this book had untold evils in it, but a summoning spell for Fenrir??! What a sick and twisted book this is! Whoever wrote it was a mad fiend!!”

“It says in the beginning that the majority of the spells were written by the Founding Reaper of Death…”

“Oh yeah, that guy was a sicko,” Grim nodded sagely.

“Didn’t you like to worship him and praise him as a genius that changed the very way Tipa operated with spells, standards and other stuff…”

“Yes, well, HE didn’t have to fear getting eaten by his own bloody creation…” Grim muttered darkly.

“Hey, I got a spell… oh, man, this… this is terrible. I mean I’ve seen… I’d rather do paperwork than work with this… maybe…” Necro said, absolutely mortified.

“Oh please, NOTHING is as bad as paperwork… oh, that’s nasty nasty… that could be considered torture… We probably shouldn’t use that spell…”

“Sir, it would appear that the residents of a small village in the middle of nowhere have somehow triggered an ancient magic circle that has summoned a demon from another dimension to our realm and are in need of our assistance…” EVA interjected.

“… Unleash the spell on them …”

“Ancient demons of old from beyond this mortal realm, unleash upon this wretched world your horrible wrath! Upon the cities of this miserable planet spread your pestilence throughout the lands! Make every mortal as chubby as a basketball so that they will have to roll around instead of walking!!!!”

“WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?!!” Jenna roared after hearing Necro finish the spell. “Are you unleashing horrible spells upon the general populace again??!!!”

“But it’s All Hallows' Eve…” Necro began, but was quickly nagged upon by his wife Jenna.

“This is EXACTLY why we had to deal with so much anti-Reaper sentiment when we began our grand journey together! If y’all would stop with this stupid tradition, the people of Tipa might actually respect us! I suspect that they purposely let us handle their dirty work BECAUSE of this stupid holiday! And furthermore, do you think obesity's funny? No, there’s nothing funny about it! It’s just plain rude because everyone knows what a pain it is to deal with! And another thing…”

While Jenna continued her seemingly endless rant, Grim quietly closed the NecrOMNOMNOMNOMNOMNOMNOMicron and snuck up behind Jenna. “You’re absolutely right, this isn’t funny anymore. If you would just open this book for us we’ll gladly read the counter-curse immediately for you…”

“It’s about time you two started maturing, I mean honestly! I swear that ever since the entire adventure ended you two have actually gotten WORSE, which is not what’s supposed to happen when one goes through the Hero’s Journey Archetype! What a very strange design on this booOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOK…” Jenna said in horror as the book quickly transformed into a giant mouth and nommed her with glee.

“Dude, that was my wife you just had the book nom!” Necro cried in horror.

“But she was nagging you to death! I had to save you from the horrible horrible power of the nag!!!!”

“And I do thank you for saving me, because everyone knows that the power of a nag is truly a man’s crippling weakness that we have no defense against. However, the fact remains that I DO love my wife despite being the Reaper of Death and fearing that she can easily kick my butt when she’s pissed off enough… The point is that I want my wife back! And we need Loki back, too!!!”

“Oh, relax, let’s unleash more torture upon these WRETCHED mortals!!!”

“I dunno, I mean, I think what we just gave them enough problems as it is…”

“Nonsense, here’s a spell right here! Oh, evil forces of doom that lurk beyond this realm’s boundary, hear me! Coat the land in a horridly bright pink color upon a white background to blind all the mortals except for this sacred secret base of Calico!!!!”

Meanwhile, in a random village somewhere in Tipa…

“OH MY PIE THE PAIN!!!! This is the worst day ever!!!! Everyone knows that hot pink on white looks horrible!!! And it’s all glittery as well making us lose our masculinity!!!!!! I’m blind!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” screamed one average NPC.

“See? That scream clearly shows that the residents of Tipa are much more concerned with horrendous colors than their comedic chubbiness!” Grim nodded sagely. “Besides, we all know that the spells in this book will end at the end of All Hallows' Eve due to the various enchantments that were set forth since the dawn of Tipa’s creation,” Grim added.

“Oh, so that means that we can unleash every single spell in this book and everything will be all better tomorrow?”

“EXACTLY! I’m sure that whatever Deus Ex Machina the Author has set up to restore reality back to normal will restore Jenna and Loki as well!!!

And so the duo decided to unleash every single spell that was in the accursed tome, truly making Tipa a living nightmare to every single resident that lived on it, except the remaining Reapers, who were quite safe inside of Calico.

“Wow, that felt gooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooood,” Necro admitted.

“Of course; you’re the Reaper of Death! You gotta revel in the darkness and chaos we’re bringing to this world! And of course the best part is that we don’t have to clean it up!!” Grim added.

“Yeah, but I feel like we did everything already… I mean, how do we top what we did this time?”

The pair looked at each other, nodded, and then called out “Hey Reaver…”
AQ DF MQ AQW Epic  Post #: 5
10/25/2010 1:19:15   
Eukara Vox
Legendary AdventureGuide!


 Doll House
by Red Blizzard

Nobody knows how it began; there are few now who even know how it ended. A flash of light, a sound of thunder, and the next thing they knew they were being picked out of the rubble. These accounts are all that remain from the city, of which there is now no other record to speak of. All names were wiped from the directory, all buildings leveled to the ground. One cannot find so much as an address book of anyone there, and public records, even those posted online, have been tampered with. Of the perpetrator nothing is known. Indeed, it isn’t even known if this was carried out by one or by many. No trace as to how it was done or why anyone did it can be found. It is only known that it was done.

Here, presented below, are the accounts of the day.

Security camera tape excavated from a shopping mall…

“Oh, my, gosh. Look at this dress!”

“Eh, it’s okay.”

“Okay!?!?!? Look at it! It’s gorgeous! I am so going to buy this one.”

“The mannequin kinda creeps me out…”

“Is that all you can think about? The mannequin? Forget that. Come on…”

A gasp.

“What is it?”

“Oh, nothing. I just thought I…OH MY GOSH!!!”

“What!?!?!?”

“Can’t you see it? It’s right in front of you! It’s moving…!”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUGGGHHH!!!”

Lights out.

Static.

End of recording.

Account of Rose Miller, ten years old.
“Well… ummm… I was asleep, and… I had a nightmare, that all my dolls came alive. And they were scary. And then I woke up, and all my dolls really had come to life, and…I thought that maybe I was still dreaming. So I closed my eyes and turned away. But when I opened them again, they were still there. And they were getting closer. So then I started to get really scared, because I have a lot of dolls, and…they were all walking towards me. On their own feet. There was Twinkle, and she was smiling like she always did, only her smile was really scary… I think it was the eyes that made it scary. She looked at me, like, really looked at me. And they were different eyes, and that scared me. So I jumped out of bed and they all started running towards me. They grabbed my legs kinda, to slow me down, and started climbing up my legs, like spiders. I don’t like spiders. So that really scared me and I tried to run, but then I tripped and I fell… and then they were all on top of me. Twinkle came up to my neck and started squeezing me… right there. I was trying not to scream… well, ok, I screamed a tiny bit, but then Twinkle squeezed me really hard and I stopped screaming. I started feeling dizzy and all, and I was trying to get the dolls off me, but they were all so strong, and I was too scared…

Then Daddy was there. I think he heard me scream, and he came running to my room to see what was wrong… and when he saw what was going on, he grabbed a book and hit Twinkle, and that made her let go. But then all of the dolls went for Daddy, and he told me to run. So I ran into the hallway and went downstairs, and I heard Mommy crying in the kitchen. I never heard Mommy cry before, so I went to see what was wrong and saw her standing there with blood on her arm. And on the kitchen counter were my other dolls, the ones I don’t sleep with, and they were holding Mommy’s kitchen knives and throwing them at her. When I went to help her, one of the dolls threw a knife at me, and it hit me… right there. That’s where I got stitches. Then, Mommy told me to run too, so I ran outside. It was dark, but it was already morning I guess… I couldn’t really tell… but I could hear screaming coming from the other houses… and it was so scary. I don’t remember what happened after that… Oh, a nice man came in a helicopter and woke me up… I think I fell asleep…and he carried me away. But not Mommy or Daddy. Do you know where they are?”
End of account.

911 Call for help, 6:45 a.m.
“Hello, hello? Is there anyone there? Is there anyone who can help me? The dolls are coming alive, I repeat, the dolls are coming alive! This is no joke, this isn’t a prank or anything, my house is overrun with my two younger daughters’ stuffed animals holding anything—baseball bats, kitchen knives, flyswatters—I need help! I can’t find my wife, I can’t find my kids, I’ve locked myself in my study, and I can still hear them banging on my door! I need help right now, do you hear me? Right now! Hello, hello? Is there anyone there? Is there anyone who can help me? Anyone at all?”
End of call.

Account by Trevor Carter, Age 42.
“It was a dark day. There hadn’t been a good rain in months and the city was parched, but the way the clouds looked that day I thought for sure that we were finally getting some rain headed our way. Sure enough, we got rain.

“I was in town, in the library getting a book… I can’t remember what book it was now. Suddenly, there was this explosion and I fell down. I remember trying to stand up, trying to make sense of everything, and then there was another explosion. I sort of staggered out between two bookshelves, just in time, since they fell over just as I got out of there. Then I looked around. Man, will I never forget the sight. There was this mannequin, one of those models they’ve got up in those department stores that they put the clothes on to show off. It was supposed to be faceless and all, but somebody got two eyes carved into it, the two scariest eyes I have ever seen. Man, they seem to look at you like you’ve done something wrong, and you just wanted to look away and deny everything even if you’ve been a good man all your life. It talked to us. I remember now, it had strapped a speaker of some sort to its chest. I remember it telling us ‘Justice shall be served,’ and there was another explosion. It didn’t come from the mannequin though, it just sort of blew upwards through the floor and through the walls and from the ceiling and from everywhere. The whole building started to collapse, and I remember running to the window and jumping out just before we hit the ground.

“I didn’t faint the moment I landed, but kind of drifted back and forth on the edge of consciousness, not sure whether I was supposed to stay awake or not. And as I looked around, I remember seeing other mannequins in the streets, walking in and out of buildings. I think all of them had those same glaring eyes as the one that I saw earlier, and most of them had speakers. I remember some had weapons too, the ones with the hands that could hold them. They had those adjustable fingers, and were holding knives and stuff, running around in the streets going after people. Some were fighting back, with guns and such, but most were just trying to run away. I can still hear the screaming.

“When I looked up at the sky then, I saw the rain. No, not the rain you’d be thinking of. It was raining fire and metal. There were buildings coming down everywhere, explosions all over the place. I’m not exactly a religious person, but when I saw the world coming down around me like that, I said a prayer of some sort to myself. I said: If I could just get out of there alive, I would pray every day before each meal and every night before I go to bed. I was stupid. I should have prayed for my family, should have prayed to keep them alive. I knew that wherever my family was, I wasn’t going to see them again, not in this mess. Even now, I don’t know where they are… I don’t know…

“I pray now. I prayed from the moment I was woken up by that man in the helicopter who came down and found me, still alive. I bet there were other people out there that could’ve been saved, still are people out there to be saved. I’m going back in there. I’m taking the next helicopter and going in there to save whoever needs to be saved…

“No I won’t. Not with these injuries. I’ve got too many cuts all over my body. I’m still in the same clothes I was when I jumped out the building. You can see the cuts and the burn marks everywhere. I still feel a sharp pain in my back pocket. Hang on a moment…

“That’s it. That’s the book I was going to borrow. Fahrenheit 451. Huh. Of all the books I had to bring with me out of that fire…

“I don’t know what else to say. I abandoned my family. I abandoned everyone else out there that I shouldn’t have left behind. The moment I get better, I’m going back to save those people. I shouldn’t have left them, to those…those… I felt trapped, that’s how I felt. Trapped in a doll house, with someone toying with me from the outside, sending all these dolls after me, trying to get me and everyone else out there. It was a dark day. It was supposed to rain. It did rain…”

Sobbing.

End of account.

Breaking news clip aired on TV…

“Investigators are still trying to find out just what exactly caused an entire city to be demolished without a single trace of who did it or why…”

Buildings coming down.

However, while excavating today in the financial district, investigators uncovered a mannequin from a department store two districts away…”

Justice shall be served.

“missing an arm…”

Still hear the screaming.

“filled with bullet holes…”

Some were fighting back.

“and with realistic eyes either carved into or implanted in its face. Around it were…”

Bodies.

They had been near a police station when it happened. They had seen the police cars rushing out, none of them returning, and had reacted when the news hit, seeking to defend themselves. Inside, the one or two officers left supplied them with whatever they could dig up: pistols, riot shotguns, smoke grenades. Then, the dolls began crawling in, a wave of plastic and cloth meant to petrify all resistance. Only it didn’t work.

A few dozen shots were fired, shredding the front lines, but they kept coming, and rather than waste any more bullets, they wisely decided to flee, dashing out through a backdoor into the daylight. The dark clouds were brewing with the promise of rain, but most the light came from below, not above, as the first fires sprang up from collapsed buildings. Trouble was already springing up. They were a lawyer, a police officer, an ex-militant, and a young couple out for their second date. They were bonded together out of the sheer need for survival: the shortest bond, and the strongest. Only death could sever it.

They ran two blocks down and there encountered the first of the full-sized dolls. A mannequin saw them dashing down the street, lifeless eyes giving them a steely glare. As if one, others raised their heads as well, rising to the challenge with lifelike movements formerly impossible for a shaped mass of plastic. And they all had eyes. Dead ones, but ones that could see nonetheless. As the group approached, one stepped forward, designer suit on, speaker strapped to its chest.

“Your struggle is pointless.” Bullets scored its body, hitting points that would have otherwise been critical. It remained standing. “There is nothing you people can do. Justice has descended upon the city with a vengeance. All who resist will meet the same fate as all who accept.” A bullet sang through the air, and the mannequin twitched to one side to avoid letting the bullet strike its speaker. It continued to talk as others charged them, a mass of flailing limbs and plastic smiles. “Lay down your weapons and accept your judgment…”

“Yeah right.” A young man, part of the couple, raised a handgun and put a bullet between the mannequin’s eyes. It merely turned its head to bear down on him with a stare as an army of dolls rushed forward. “Resistance is futile.”

“Not that cliché…” The police officer groaned and pointed his shotgun. The first blast sent dozens of mannequins flying backwards, their light bodies ripped to shreds by pellets. A few got up, wobbling on their feet, but others stayed down, unable to rise. “The damage you do to us is of no consequence. We are merely the executors and the adjudicators, not the legislators.” More mannequins rushed forward to replace those that fell. Not only was the entire shopping district emptied, but everything from life-sized cookie monsters down to teddy bears the size of a thumb had been mobilized against the city. In the distance, the sound of explosions could be heard as the dolls before them continued to charge forward en masse.

“You will die regardless of what you do. Do not resist.” A second wave of dolls was sent sprawling backwards.

“Like I’m going to spend my last moments listening to your talk!” The police officer spat and fired one more time, the others supporting him with whatever they could. Slowly but surely, the army marched forward against them. A smoke grenade was thrown, blinding everyone. But sharp eyes saw through the murk, and a gurgling scream went up into the air. The young couple felt a hand on their shoulders, and they were hauled out of the street and into the alley. Another voice called out to them, “Get going, I’ll hold them off!” There was another shotgun bang, and then all sound was drowned out by marching feet. The couple and the hands holding them were steered out of the smoke and into a narrow network of alleyways behind the buildings. Turning, the two saw their savior: the ex-military. That meant the lawyer had screamed and the officer was dead.

“Don’t worry about the others, worry about staying alive for the moment.” The military man looked at them gruffly as he lead them on. A harsh clatter of footsteps behind them. Two mannequins in high-heels burst out of the smoke, fashionable dresses swishing lightly. Military man grunted and hefted his own shotgun, taking off the first one’s head. It fell over and stayed down. But the second one, instead of pulling out a knife or diving in with its hands, merely raised them and clapped once. For a moment, everyone raised their eyebrows. Then, taking the hint, they all ran. A moment later, the building on the left side of the alleyway exploded. Swearing, the military man dashed through the flames, dragging the other two to safety. They paused once safely out of the fire, breathing hard, heels scorched. Then, high-heels clacked, and the mannequin walked out of the inferno. The young man fired just as the mannequins raised its hands again. His bullet punctured one eye and kept traveling on through the back of its head, boring a hole that revealed plain old plastic, nothing more. But the mannequin seemed to stumble, reaching up to where its eye used to be. All movement on that side of the body seized up. The girl, taking the hint, took out the other eye, and the mannequin came crashing down, lifeless like before.

“Good work, both of you.” The ex-military heaved a sigh. “Looks like they can blow things up just by clapping, so don’t give them the chance. Go for the eyes, it seems. Those are the things controlling them.”

“How are they even coming to life in the first place?” The girl’s voice was exasperated, searching for reason among the madness.

“I don't know, but I have a feeling that someone's controlling these freaks. They can't all be just acting up on their own." The ex-military cautiously approached the downed mannequin, turning it over and removing various components. All ordinary plastic. Behind him, the girl looked on apprehensively.

"Well?"

"Like I said, don’t worry about that. Only worry about staying…” The ex-military paused as a tiny little doll landed on his shoulder and perched there. It was one of those baby dolls you would find in your average toy store, the one with the eyes that would open and shut. Only this one’s eyes stayed open. Its head turned all the way around, surveying its surroundings, as everyone else froze in shock. Then, it smiled sweetly at the military man, laughed through its own little speaker, and clapped its hands.

“Get out of…!” The couple scrambled for their lives as the building nearest to them erupted into a pillar of fire and molten concrete. Slipping and stumbling against each other, they somehow made it back to the main street…and found themselves surrounded. Mannequins and dolls of all shapes and sizes surrounded them in the shadow of a massive skyscraper. The alleyways had led them to the center of the financial district.

“Give up.” The mannequin with the speaker was there, designer suit slightly ruffled. Only this time, it was at the back of the army, not at the front, standing on the steps leading up to the building opposite them. “Any further resistance, and your deaths will be slow and painful.”

“So much for justice, huh?” And with that the girl was away, wielding two pistols and firing into the crowd at eye-level. Most of her shots went wide, but several found their mark, knocking loose eyes and downing several mannequins. The young man followed her in, sweeping those on her other side as the two commenced fighting for their lives. But it could hardly be called a fight. The mannequins just stood there, fell, got up again, and fell down for good. But then, in the middle of reloading, the man was tackled to the ground by a mannequin wielding a butcher’s cleaver. They struggled for a moment on the ground, their feet flailing, kicking the guns away. Then, the man wrestled himself on top, tore off the mannequin’s arm, and beheaded it with its own cleaver. Nearby, a mannequin picked up his guns, pointed them at him, and squeezed both triggers. Nothing.

“Stupid, I didn’t reload them.” The mannequin’s head was lopped off as the man dove back into the fray, now hacking and hewing at anything he could reach. The mannequins moved fast, but couldn’t keep up with his energy, body crackling with life that they lacked. Behind him, the girl finished off the entire other side of the street, guns clicking empty just as the last mannequin fell.

“Sheesh, if the cops had actually tried, they might have been able to take care of this entire situation by themselves.” The girl looked around for anything that might be remotely harmful, all the while searching for extra clips. She found none. At the other end, the man finished up with the dismemberment of one final mannequin, then turned around. Other than a few minor cuts, he was fine. He looked over his shoulder at her, eyes meeting with hers.

Clap.

The skyscraper groaned as its entire base was rent apart by a massive blast, keeling over onto the street, shadow engulfing the couple. The girl looked up, eyes wide, dropping everything. The man seized her and sprinted full speed out of the way, hardly making it out before a cloud of dust sprang up, blocking out everything. For a moment, the two just lay where they had landed, coughing. But as the dust cleared, a dark figure in a designer suit appeared before them, arms raised.

“Oh, no, you don’t!” The man charged, cleaver in hand, and sliced off an arm. But his momentum carried him too far, within reach of a building. The mannequin nonchalantly raised its other arm, fingers moving together.

Snap.

Half the building exploded. The man was blown back, body smoldering. He seemed to crumple like a rag doll onto the pavement, blackened and burned.

“NO!!!” The girl ran to him, brushing by the mannequin, reaching for him. He was still breathing, barely, but he was unconscious and bleeding fast. He was going to die either way.

A shadow fell across the girl’s back. “Why do you linger?” The girl turned around and glared into the eyes of the mannequin in the designer suit, speaker dangling from its chest by a few wires. “You have a chance to escape, yet you stay by his side even though he will die. Weren’t you going to resist me? Weren’t you going to live?”

The girl spat her words back at the doll, eyes glowing defiantly. “Whoever you are, whatever you are, you clearly have no idea what it means to be human, to appreciate the value of human life. What is your justice anyways? It’s just an excuse for you to kill people! I feel sorry for you, never knowing what it’s like to actually live and love."

The mannequin froze for a moment, standing absolutely still as if in contemplation.

“I don’t understand you humans.”

Snap.
AQ DF MQ AQW Epic  Post #: 6
10/26/2010 21:27:07   
Eukara Vox
Legendary AdventureGuide!


 Entry 58
By Cow Face

They say that I am a demon. And I suppose that they are correct. Ever since my birth—if I was indeed born?—I have been shunned by those around me. If not for my strange birthmark, perhaps I would have been left alone. Likely not. For, you see, my tendencies, my idiosyncrasies, clash too strongly with the mores of the society in which I find myself.

And so I find myself imprisoned. They have finally taken it upon themselves to chain me in this cell. Unsurprising. This culture always was one for fetters and locks rather than rational thought. They're happier with their dogmatic xenophobia than the examination, even the assimilation, of the unknown. Is it not the bane of all beings? We find ourselves more likely to fear that which is strange, rather than to adopt it. Were we to nurture the freaks, such as myself, this world would be a superior one to its current state.

Ah, but I find myself underrating them. While I wrote that they do not assimilate, that is an untruth; indeed, assimilation is the very core of their society. One by one, from the moment of creation within this plane, all "normal" beings learn to think for the Hive. Individuality is scorned: why else would a mere birth defect, being ugly, separate one from all others? Why else would we withhold compassion from those who have committed no other sin than that of being born?

I should not allow myself to become so incensed at my position. After all, I am a scholar, a man of diplomacy and learning. Well… not a man. A beast. A demon. Yes, that word fits perfectly. Given my strange, hideous form, I must be of a different plane. Perhaps I was never meant to walk this earth. Hah. Now I sound as though I subscribe to their superstitious ways, and maybe I do. Already have I submitted to being locked away; does that not indicate at least some indoctrination to their damnable policies?

Admittedly, not all members of this cult are so cruel. There is a young woman who has shown me kindness. I feel almost affectionate toward her. No, I do feel affection for her. Not love, but… friendship, I suppose. Camaraderie. There's a good term for it. She is my comrade in my campaign against stupidity and exclusion. It is she who has provided me with the parchment on which I now write, as well as my books and clothing. Surreptitiously, of course—it would not do for the others to know that she has gone to such great lengths to make me comfortable.

As I feel somewhat obliged to speak highly of such a being, I shall do so. She has an admirable intellect, likely in part adding to her tendencies toward rendering me assistance. Unlike most in this… this, I can speak to her of my various philosophies, if quietly. She does not entirely understand all of them, but neither do I; it is a sign not of low intellect, but rather a high one. There are many contradictions inherent in the majority of my discourses—an attestation to my as-yet incomplete education. Much as they do mine, I shun their "learning." The masters are entirely left out of it, replaced by only those doctrines which comply with their narrow world-view.

Oh, I digress… Yes. The young lady. Despite my own physical deformities, I can still acknowledge physical attractiveness in others. Her flesh is of a lovely dark hue, her eyes nigh pitch, her hair jet. I must admit to some surprise concerning her position here. In one so gifted with a dark complexion, the likes of which must be envied by females who see her, I would expect something more than a menial position. Granted, positions here are not based entirely upon pleasing aesthetics; her far-from-poor mental abilities no doubt hindered her in receiving a superior position. The leaders here are selected from amongst the masses, and from the masses they merely choose those whom they view as least foolish. Lacking the capacity, however, for intelligent judgment, they instead manage to completely botch the process. Their—no, "our"—rulers are the most incompetent, the most paranoid, the most aloof from the strange. But perhaps I have misstated their ignorance. Should not a leader embody all which a society holds dear?

Almost time for my beating. I must stop this entry soon; a few more words before I go. I seek asylum from this underworld. Please, if ever this journal should take wing, and find itself in the hands of someone who cares, let me be freed. I beg of you, take pity on a poor freak. After all, I am almost normal. Intelligent as I am, I can tell that. My skin is tanned, my hair dark… if not for these damning eyes. Why did they have to be blue?

Desperate answers grope in the darkness
For questions that nobody asked.
Bodiless anthems beat in the silence
Of hallways that no-one has passed.
And so in the darkness, here shall I lie—
Still waiting for answers, or the grace to die.
AQ DF MQ AQW Epic  Post #: 7
10/26/2010 21:34:42   
Eukara Vox
Legendary AdventureGuide!


 I am one who thrives in darkness
By Shreder

I am one who thrives in darkness
Its gentle touch
Its soft caress
Its oppressive beauty

My stiff, black-feathered wings
Push against it
Thresh through it
Parting the darkling waves

Tendrils on the whispering wind
Thrilling me
Filling me
With the intoxicating scent

The silver moonlight cascades down
Starlight twinkles
Shadows mingle
On twisted branch I perch

For at the times when darkness rules
And in me dwells
Then my heart swells
With tremulous delight

For I am one who thrives in darkness
AQ DF MQ AQW Epic  Post #: 8
11/1/2010 2:17:48   
Eukara Vox
Legendary AdventureGuide!


 Roomies
by monstermike9000

It was a chilly October night. The moon’s face peered through clouds that tip-toed on little cat paws. Its light was barely audible in the symphony of street lights and early Christmas decorations. I had received a phone call from her earlier that week. She had moved here from Toronto chasing after her dream job. As luck would have it, after an intrepid romp around Europe, I too found myself living in the same rainy city. In fact, it had been like that for some time now. I also had found out that I lived fifteen minutes away from her newly bought apartment. It had been years since we last saw each other, and I had asked if I could come over and visit sometime.

She had agreed.

The front door to my old friend’s apartment was ajar. A million thoughts swirled before my eyes while warning bells went off in my head. Was I in the middle of a break-in? Should I call the police? What if she’d just forgotten to shut the door?

My body pulled my arm back as I shook at the knees, pleading for me not to do it. Slowly but steadily my hand came closer and closer.

Then I knocked on the door.

I stood alone in the empty hallway. I paused and waited for a few seconds more. No answer.

“Hello?” I asked. “Is anybody home?” My meek voice cracked, my fingers fidgeted with the buttons of my coat.

I held my breath as the door slowly creaked open from my gentle blows. Before me was a barely furnished apartment living room and stacks of unpacked suitcases. Inside, there was a small couch, a T.V. and a small lamp on a table. Nothing fancy. Nothing worth stealing, I thought to myself.

I slipped off my shoes and walked in to the middle of the living room. “Hello?” I asked again, this time more firmly.

It was faint at first, a muffled sound coming from the walls. Gradually it became clearer, the sound of a woman sobbing.

It was my friend, I assured myself. Her dream job might not be turning out so well.

I followed the trail of tears to what I assumed to be the bedroom. I tried the doorknob. It was locked.

“Annie?” I asked, “It’s me, Todd. We talked on the phone?” I pressed my ear against the door. She was still crying.

Unperturbed, I got on all fours and peeked through the foot of the door. Inside was a woman in the dark, sitting alone on a chair, facing a corner of the room. Only the soft glow of the hallway lights helped me discern who was inside.

She wore a tattered gown stained with what looked like mud and had frazzled, fiery red hair. This wasn’t Annie. Her roommate, perhaps? Maybe even a co-worker. She was always the artsy type, so it wasn’t such a stretch to imagine her with friends that had the same interests.

I let out a sigh: out of relief that I wasn’t about to go toe-to-toe with a burglar, and out of sympathy for this down-on-her-luck woman whom I had not yet learned the name of.

I made my way to the kitchen. I didn’t know what I could do to make her feel better, so I opted to make a grilled cheese sandwich. It was my comfort food and it was the only thing I could think of at the time. I opened the fridge and cupboards, collecting what I needed.

While I prepared the peace offering, I spoke loudly, trying to make small-talk but to no avail. With grilled cheese sandwich in hand, I slid down against the door to a sitting position and placed the sandwich at the foot of the door. I rapped gently against the bedroom door but I was only met with silence. Not even the sobbing that I heard before. All was quiet.

Once again I got on to my belly and looked inside the poorly lit room. This time the chair was empty and the room was empty. It was all empty except for the woman’s tattered, mud-stained gown which was now hanging, almost floating near the door.

Suddenly at the corner of my eye, a mop of long red hair slowly descended down and pooled before me. Inch by inch, her head bobbed down. Her skin was unbelievably pale. But before I could see what she really looked like, she whipped up and the chair flew across the room, making a loud, angry sound as it smashed against the door.

Like a Peeping Tom who had been caught, I apologized profusely. It occurred to me then that I might have been disrespectful and that she might have locked herself in the room so that others wouldn’t see her in such a mess.

After sitting there with my thoughts in awkward silence, it was a welcome sound to hear the locks on the front door turning as my friend stepped through with a bag of groceries, as surprised to see me as I was relieved to see her.

Within the next few minutes, I attempted to calm her down and explain the best I could as to what had happened. Finding her front door open, hearing her distraught roommate in the locked room, and the grilled cheese sandwich. I pleaded with Annie to tell her roommate that I only had the best of intentions and did not mean any harm.

Annie Trudeau pushed her glasses back and removed her scarf. Her raven hair poured down like a waterfall.

She set her grocery bag on the kitchen counter. “But Todd,” Annie said as she looked me in the eyes, “I don’t have a roommate.”
AQ DF MQ AQW Epic  Post #: 9
11/1/2010 2:56:52   
Eukara Vox
Legendary AdventureGuide!


 Alone in the Dark
By Torn

It took Torn’s eyes a moment to adjust to the sudden darkness. Once adjusted, Torn saw Elano, Orivs, Drathen, and Teré clustered together in front of him. Torn heard the Loreằsion civilian and the tour guide beating on the metal door that separated Torn’s group from them. The beating on the door grew quiet and was replaced by bloodcurdling screaming. Torn heard the tour guide begin firing his pistol. A deep, rumbling roar respond to the gunshots, followed by screams of pain by the tour guide. Crunching could be heard on the other side of the wall.

“What the hell was that?!” Orvis whispered.

“How should I know?” Torn whispered back. He looked at his friends and saw Elano was crying. Torn hugged Elano, trying to calm her down.

“How are we going to get out of here?” Teré asked.

“I don’t know. Let’s calm down for a second and think. We’re blocked off from the others—”

“What’s left of them,” Orvis muttered darkly.

“We have no food, weapons, or any light sources. I suggest we sit here and wait till the power comes back online. Once that happens, we’ll find our way out of here,” Torn finished.

“That’s crazy! What if those… things break through?” Teré asked.

“Yeah!” Drathen and Orvis agreed.

“Well, do any of you have a solution?” Torn growled. The others grew quiet.

“You still have my Blood Crystal, don’t you?” Orvis asked, and Torn nodded. “Hand it to me. I might be able to find a way out of here.”

Torn fished the crystal out of his pockets and handed it to Orvis. Orvis summoned his scythe, slamming the crystal into the base of the scythe. A blood-red light emitted from the stone, bathing the room in its ghastly light. “And then, there was light.” Orvis whispered. He pointed the makeshift torch south of their current location. A dark tunnel was all there was to be seen.

“Looks like we don’t have a choice,” Torn said.

Orvis began striding down the long hallway, followed by Torn, Elano, Teré, with Drathen bringing up the rear. The hallway seemed endless, and quite eerie. A dark shadow darted in front of Orvis light.

“Hold up,” Orvis whispered. The group clustered beside him. A scratching sound was heard to their right. Orvis swung the light in the direction of the noise and saw a hind leg disappear into the darkness.

“What was that?!” Elano whispered.

Drathen breathed fire in the direction of the leg. He hit nothing. A growling sound was heard again to their right. This time, when Orvis swung the light around, they managed to see what it was. It was a wolf-like creature with large spines running down its back and a stinger on its tail. Drathen again blew fire, this time igniting the creature on fire. The creature howled in pain as it burned. It launched spines off of its back, striking Drathen in the torso. Drathen collapsed.

“Are you okay?” Torn asked as Drathen yanked the spines out.

“Yeah, I’m fine. A little woozy, but fine,” Drathen replied, stumbling to his feet. A hissing snarl could be heard behind, and on both sides of the group.

“RUN!” Torn yelled. Orvis, Torn, Teré, and Elano bolted forward, with Drathen bringing up the rear, spewing fire toward the creatures. They reached two doors at the end of the hallway.

“Which one?!” Orvis called.

“The right one!” Torn said.

Orvis opened the door, letting Torn, Elano, Teré, and Drathen inside. Orvis entered the room, slamming the door closed. The metal door locked into place, trapping them inside. Orvis leaned against the door, trying to catch his breath. They were in a large metallic room. Several terminal monitors could be seen, with eight glass cylinders in the center of the room.

“Where are we…?” Teré asked. Torn looked around, noticing that the tubes were filled with a luminescent blue liquid.

“Orvis, put your scythe away,” Torn said.

Orvis complied and stood up, staring at the tubes. “What do you think they were used for?” he asked, walking over to the others. Torn shrugged in response. Looking around the room, he found a terminal that was on.

“Hey guys, look at this,” Torn whispered, sitting in the chair in front of the terminal. Empty coffee cups were scattered around. Blood covered the keyboard. Torn moved the mouse, and then a voice crackled out of the terminal's speakers.

“Welcome, Dr. Catherine M. Keyes! This is your personal A.I., Sera. How may I be of assistance? Would you like to add another entry to your journal? Or would you like to access files to the Genetic experiments?” Sera asked.

“I would like to access the Genetic Experiments files,” Teré said.

“Understood, Dr. Keyes,” Sera said. A large file appeared onscreen, followed by a document titled Completed Experiments. The group read the contents with increasing horror.

Successful Genetic Experiments
..........Mecagalialsarilla ‘Mesa’ - Gorilla, Tiger Shark, Hippo - ACTIVE
..........Rethizondormasmith ‘Pack’ - Wolf, Porcupine, Scorpion, Piranha - ONE DECEASED, SEVEN ACTIVE
..........Garisarchduxsus ‘Spine’ - Hyena, Porcupine, Tarantula - ACTIVE
..........Crocoluscataphractus ‘Shredder’ - Slender-snouted Crocodile, Mako Shark - ACTIVE
..........Liocarcidelphinidae ‘Carcini’ - Crab, Dolphin - ACTIVE
In Progress Genetic Experiments
..........Project ‘Squeeze’ - Boa constrictor, squid - DEVELOPING
Failed Genetic Experiments
..........Project ‘Devil’ - Horned Lizard, Mayfly - FAILED

Torn moved the mouse and clicked on each experiment, examining the photographs of each grotesque creature. “Ãnea, what were they doing? I thought they made cures for diseases here.”

“Obviously not,” Orvis replied dryly. A high-pitched cackling came from behind the group. Orvis summoned his scythe and spun around to find a hyena with multiple eyes and with spines jutting out of its back. The creature cackled again as Orvis swung his scythe. The creature, apparently project ‘Spine,’ dodged the swing. Drathen shoved Orvis, fire roaring from his maw and engulfing the creature.

“I thought this place was secure!” Torn hissed.

“I thought it was!” Orvis shouted in response. The luminous tubes suddenly grew dark, casting the room in darkness. The group clustered together, their backs to the wall. Sounds of claws scraping against metal could be heard, along with howls. “They're coming out of the vents!” Orvis whispered.

“Drathen, light ‘em up!” Torn ordered.

Drathen nodded, fire roaring from his maw. He swung his head to and fro, trying to engulf anything that was foolish enough to get close. Several of the creatures cried in pain as the fire engulfed a small portion of the pack. The remaining creatures charged forward, their teeth gleaming in the dim, blood-red light. One of the creatures leapt at Orvis, knocking him to the ground. Orvis placed the shaft of his scythe into the creature’s mouth, before kicking the creature off. Orvis stumbled to his feet as it attacked again. Orvis swung his scythe, killing the creature. Drathen charged forward, changing to his dragon form, albeit man-sized. The creatures backed away from Drathen, howling, and chattering clicks followed as the creatures ran back to the vent, leaving the group alone in the darkness. The group waited a moment to see if the creatures would return.

“What was that about?” Teré asked.

“Not sure. Maybe they’re afraid of Drathen?”

“Dr. Keyes, might I recommend you taking the hidden passage behind your bookshelf to leave this facility? It is quite obvious that it is not safe anymore,” Sera’s voice crackled over the speakers.

“Thank you, Sera. You have been a large amount of help this evening,” Teré said as Orvis and Torn located and moved the bookshelf. A large, dark tunnel lay behind the bookshelf. The group entered the passage, Orvis using the scythe as a torch, followed by Elano, Teré, Torn and Drathen. The passage seemed never-ending as they marched, no sign of progress to be seen. Drathen yelled in surprise, causing the group to turn. A large hairy, ape-like creature held Drathen in a death grip. Drathen spewed fire in every direction as he struggled to free himself.

“Let him go!” Torn roared, charging toward the creature. The creature backed away from Torn, several of the wolf-like creatures appearing at the creature’s sides.

“We…take…god…with…us,” the ape-like creature said, seeming to have trouble forming the words.

Torn gasped in shock as the creature lumbered away, followed by its companions. “They can…talk?” he whispered. Torn turned toward the group, all equally as shocked as he was. “We need to go after him."

“Are you crazy?! We can’t beat those things! We need to find a way out of here first, and then we can save him,” Orvis stated.

“But he’s my friend! If it wasn’t for him, we would all be dead!” Torn replied hotly.

“We know that, Torn! I want to save Drathen as well, but we just don’t have the firepower to take down those beasts. We’ll save him later.” Teré walked over to Torn and embraced him. Torn shook, tears running down his cheeks.

“He’s like a brother to me,” he whispered.

“I know. It’s going to be all right. We’ll save him,” Teré reassured him.

“Alright, enough of this touchy-feely crap. Let’s get moving,” Orvis said, continuing down the tunnel.

“Wait for us!” Elano said, running to his side. Torn and Teré sighed and ran over to Orvis and Elano. The group traveled in silence before coming to a dead end. It smelled of rotten sewage.

“Great, now what are we going to do?” Orvis huffed, flinging his scythe to the ground. The crimson light given off by the Blood Crystal showed a large manhole in the center of where the group stood.

“We are going to escape,” Torn said, lifting up the manhole. Orvis reclaimed his scythe and turned toward the hole. Torn motioned for him to go first.

“Age before beauty, Thomas,” Orvis sneered.

“Just get down there, and don’t call me that,” Torn said. Orvis sighed and climbed down the ladder protruding from the hole. A few minutes passed before they heard Orvis reach the bottom.

“Is it safe?” Torn called down.

“By Ãnea, it reeks down here!”

“That’s because it’s a sewer, bonehead.” Torn went down the ladder, followed by Elano, and finally Teré.

“Ewww. It’s disgusting down here!” Orvis placed an arm around Elano's shoulder.

“If I were you, I would learn the most important thing when you’re around those two. No complaining, and don’t interrupt them when they’re flirting with one another.” Orvis grinned.

“I heard that, bonehead!” Torn growled. Orvis stuck his tongue out at Torn.

“What are you going to do? Kill me… again?” Orvis joked.

“Maybe, if you keep your arm around my sister’s shoulder.” Torn grinned. Orvis placed his hands in front of his body, mocking innocence.

“Hey, do you guys see that? It’s a light! Come on, we’re almost out of this hellhole!” Elano ran forward, toward a bright light at the end of the sewer line. Orvis ran after Elano. He seemed unsure of his actions, though. Torn attempted to run after his sister and friend, but was stopped by Teré.

“What’s wrong?”

“That is not sunlight, it’s a search light.”

“What?!”

“Do you notice how the light fades in brightness from time to time, and how it appears to be moving? The Emperor must have sent soldiers down here to try and stop the experiments from escaping.” Torn heard Elano scream. He tried to run over to her, to protect her, but he was still in Teré’s death grip.

“Let me go! I can’t lose her again!” Torn screamed. Teré’s grip softened a moment before she regained the iron grip.

“And I can’t lose you again, either,” she whispered. Torn heard Orvis yelling.

“Get your filthy hands off of her!” Torn heard struggling, followed by Orvis roaring in anger. He heard guards yelling, and gunfire, followed by Elano screaming. Silence. Torn felt a hot trail run down his cheek, and he realized that he was crying. He could only imagine what had happened to his sister and his best friend. Had they been captured? Had they been killed? He couldn’t know for sure. Teré wrapped her arms around Torn. He could feel that she was crying too.

“Everything will be alright soon,” Teré whispered. It didn’t make Torn feel any better.
AQ DF MQ AQW Epic  Post #: 10
11/1/2010 2:59:21   
Eukara Vox
Legendary AdventureGuide!


 The Darkness Within
by Alexmacf

10-20
“JONATHON!” she screams, just as I am about to escape. “GET BACK HERE, YOU SONUVA—” I slam the door. “JONATHON SEELEY!” I tremble in my black work boots, terrified of what's about to happen. “I STAY HOME ALL DAY WITH THE BRATS AND THIS IS THE THANKS I GET?! YOU CAN GO TO HELL!!” She pulls out a gun, which is glinting menacingly, the lights in the apartment playing mean tricks on it.

Nothing has ever terrified me more than Melanie and her moods. When she's like this... It's almost like the Angel of Death, swooping with his black wings to take first-born children. Or, in this case, swooping to take me. I deserve it, I think. I am a sinner, an awful Christian, full of darkness and evil. I look upon women with desire, I eat more than 1,500 calories a day, I am greedy and lazy and never bring home enough money. I get angry, I get jealous, and I am prideful. I truly apologize to everyone I've hurt. I think I'm going to die, and therefore, my final prayer: I am truly sorry of all these things, my Lord. I seek your forgiveness. Amen.


10-21
Where am I? White ceiling, smells like disinfectant... Am I in the hospital?

“Good morning, Mr. Seeley,” says an older woman in a white nurse's uniform. “I hope you're feeling better? It's not a fatal wound, I assure you.”

“What happened? Where am I?”

“Your wife found you on your bedroom floor, shot in the leg. She says she saw a shadowy figure running across the street.”

“So the shadow person must have shot me. All right.” How....? Melanie had the gun. She must have shot me. But why the leg? “How soon will I be released?”

“Perhaps as early as tomorrow,” the nurse said. She smiled kindly, looking like my mother. “Don't worry too much, dear. We've already stitched you up.”

“Thank you, ma'am,” I replied. Memories of Mama were rushing back to me, wonderful memories of beautiful times. Cookies fresh out of the oven, Thanksgiving dinner, doing my math homework and Mama explaining subtraction with candy.

“Don't mention it, dear.”


10-22
I've given it a lot of thought, and I have to get the kids out of there. They deserve a mother who'll help them with their homework, not a mother who goes after them in the dimness of twilight. I love Melanie, but the kids have to come first. They have to. They have a future, and can live free of the kind of home life they would have if we stayed together. I'm taking them with me to the domestic violence shelter until I can arrange for other living quarters.


10-23
Melanie wasn't at all pleased about me taking the children... and Annie is scared. She knows exactly what's going on and doesn't know what to do about it. The rest are all too young.

I arrive at the shelter, a two-story industrial-gray building in the middle of the city, as it nears 10 o'clock at night. I try to get in, but the receptionist doesn't understand.

“Hey, bucko, this is a domestic violence shelter, not a homeless one,” she informs me in a strong Queens accent.

“Yes, ma'am, I realize that, ma'am.” I must have seemed pretty beat-up, to be mistaken for a homeless man.

“Don't tell me you think you can get in!” she said, and cracked up. Her dark suit rippled as her shoulders moved up and down. She seemed to be amused by the prospect.

“Ma'am, the children and I are victims of domestic abuse. Melly takes the phrases 'Tough love' and 'Don't spare the rod' quite literally.”

“A jokester, eh?”

“No, ma'am.”

“Then you've actually been beat up by a woman? What kinda man are ya?”

“Evidently one in need of help, ma'am.”

“No way are ya gettin' in here. Men ain't abused, they're the abusers. Didja know that only one percent of reported abuse cases are male?”

“Well then, ma'am, I'm part of that one percent, I suppose.”

“No, ya ain't. Now scram. I feel sorry fer yer woman, havin' a weakling man like that.”


On his way home that day it began to snow. The car Jonathon Seeley was driving went right off the bridge. All three children, Annie, Patrick, and Charline, were saved; however, Seeley drowned. Accident or suicide? Either way, Melanie's abusive actions were reported to the police by Annie later that year. All three children were placed into the foster care system, and we have no further information on them. At least we know that Melanie can't hurt them any longer.
AQ DF MQ AQW Epic  Post #: 11
11/1/2010 19:42:04   
Eukara Vox
Legendary AdventureGuide!


 To the Library Archivist Xor Vralin,

I was most distressed to receive your missive. I like to think of Eukara as a friend, and I hold her in the highest esteem. As you said, I am very anxious to hear about her sudden disappearance, and can only hope that by the time your letter reached me, she was located safe and sound, and has by now returned to her duties. Should this not be the case, I hope that by the time my reply has reached you, you and your compatriots have managed to discover the cause of what has happened, and are developing some remedy or solution.

I wish that I had the time to come and aid you in your search, but matters in Imla have progressed to a point at which I cannot leave without risking a great deal in terms of lives and safety to those to whom I have obligations. I would send Slash to bear this letter to you more swiftly, that she might aid you, but unfortunately I have need of her skills and knowledge as much as my own to resolve the current crisis I myself work to stem.

I beg of you, please inform me as soon as you are able to when you have news concerning Eukara.

Alex

Between the Shadows and the Soul
discovered by Alex Shiveran

I don’t know if this letter will reach Neretha, or that I shall ever see my homeland again. I miss the sun’s rising over the rim of the valley, the soft bubbling of the creek as it winds past the old willow, the sight of the sun’s rays caressing the red tiles of the house, the scent of lilacs on the breeze, mixing with the smell of loaves baking in the clay oven behind the house. Most of all I miss my wife, holding her against me in the predawn hours between wakefulness and sleep. Sleep is the only place now that I can see her, but sleep… sleep is lost to me now. When I close my eyes, all I can see is the pool, the dark descent into the yawning maw of hell itself. I move ahead of myself. I must return to the proper order.

As much as I miss these things, I cannot regret the choice I made, and I would make it again. I abandoned my post, with the Queen’s Bow, with the others, abandoned my post and traveled into the heart of darkness itself, the depths of the Lithican desert, searching for answers, explanations why the Lithicans attacked us ceaselessly.

I don’t know how long we walked those deserts, the sands burning during the day, waves of heat hazing the distance into a uniform mirage. At night the sands froze, merciless winds screaming across the open expanse of the desert, flinging sand heedlessly to worm its way into every crevice and nook, until we awoke tasting sand, marched shaking it out of our clothing, and slept with it closer to us than any lover. Weeks passed, perhaps months, but we spotted the mountain.

At first it was nothing but a darker smear on the seemingly endless stretch of sand rolling around us, and it grew larger slowly, as though reluctant to reveal itself to us. The Queen’s Bow set our course toward the mountain; there seemed little other option, unless we were to wander the desert indefinitely until we all succumbed to the depravity of the environment.

Months passed before we reached the foothills of the lonely mountain. We saw nothing along the way, no evidence of habitation so far as we could see. No Lithicans attacked us, nor even showed their faces, as if the desert was simply a wasteland. I wish that it was. I wish that we had given up, turned back from our quest and returned to Neretha. The horror of what we witnessed, the madness we found there beneath the shell of stone that looked so innocuous when we first laid eyes upon it…

We delved deep into the mountain, climbing it and then discovering a cave opening cut into the rock. It led to a winding stair, which we followed carefully down, mindful of the yawning abyss mere inches away. Unseen hands had hollowed out the entire mountain, or so it seemed to us, a black emptiness near at hand as we spiraled ever downward. Finally, after a seeming age, we reached the bottom, and that was when we first heard the noise.

How can I describe it? It… it was a black noise. I can explain it no other way. It was distant at first, but as we crept through the tunnels branching off the lower chamber at the foot of the stairs it seemed to grow, a grating, vibrating noise that sunk into your bones and took up residence there. Ah, but had I never dared leave my post!

The black noise rose and fell in odd, ululating rhythms, rhythms that numbed the mind, and before I realized it I was alone in the tunnel, lost and confused. My comrades were gone; I don’t know how it happened. But I was alone, my body swaying in unconscious time with the black noise reverberating around me.

I do not wish to continue, to write of what came next, of the horror of that subterranean cavern, yet, so much as it pains me to do so, I must. The Queen’s Bow has commanded it, and even had he not I still must, for if this missive ever makes it back to Neretha, they must know. Everyone must know of these horrors, unbearable though they are, because they must know what we face. They must know the consequence of failing.

The black noise, that dread vibration, that utter wrongness grew until it blotted out all else, demanding I move forward. I was helpless to resist, for the sound had taken some hold on me, and I was pulled forward against my will, every fiber of my being screaming that I should turn and run, that I should put as much distance between myself and this pit of Stygian horror as was possible. I could not. The noise drew me on, and then I heard the chanting, a guttural, primal grating such as I had never heard before or since, and yet, I knew instinctively that it was someone or something chanting.

I crept forward quietly, taking shelter behind an outcropping of rock as I peered down into a vast chamber, lit fitfully by the meager light of two small torches. Some strange stench befouled the chamber, perhaps from desert herbs burning in the braziers. I could not tell, as I was some distance above, but whatever it was, the stench stung my nostrils and brought tears to my eyes.

There was, blearily visible in the dim light of the torches, a body of water. I cannot say how great it was, for it stretched away into the cavern, lost in the darkness that swallowed the recesses of that space. The black noise persisted, stronger now, roiling and echoing about the chamber even as the chanting grew louder. It was then that I saw them, six Lithicans bearing between them a litter or stretcher of some sort, on which a seventh form lay, struggling feebly against the bonds that held it. I stared at the little procession, dumbstruck, uncertain as to how the Lithicans walked, much less bore the stretcher, for all of them were gravely wounded, bandaged, and bleeding even as they shuffled to a halt and lowered the stretcher onto a raised dais.

Of the horrors that followed next, I hardly dare speak, and I tremble even now as I write these words, but I must go on. Though terror claws at my mind, I must set down, as best I can, what I saw. It is my duty, just as I must ensure this letter reaches Neretha, no matter the cost. The soldiers, relieved of the burden of the stretcher, began to undress, casting off clothes and unbinding wounds. I was transfixed in horror, one of the men unwinding a bandage from his head, and I had to avert my eyes, covering my mouth to stifle a cry. Half his face was simply gone, as though sheered away by some terrible blow. The six continued their chant, apparently undisturbed by the others' disfigurements and wounds, and it was then that I noticed the eerie stillness. The black noise, the odd, half heard, half felt vibration of the place was gone. Its absence was no comfort though, for the lack of the noise lent a suffocating air of expectation to the cavern, aided by the rising chant of the Lithicans.

The still waters began to ripple, and then to roil as though they were a great cauldron under boil as the chanting rose to a grating crescendo, at which they unleashed a shrill, ululating cry. The cry stirred something, and the water frothed madly as a great hulking shape splashed up from the Stygian depths. It loomed over them, indefinable in the dark. The torches were doused by the surge of water, and yet, the water itself seemed to glow, casting a faint luminosity around the chamber by which I saw the Lithicans unbind the person on the stretcher.

It was a woman, and she screamed and struggled as her hideously wounded captors unbound her and removed her gag. Then, the creature extended a fetid claw towards the woman, lifting her in a massive paw that dwarfed her frame. She struggled wildly, screaming incoherently in a language I did not understand. One of the Lithicans called out loudly, and the abomination extending a black, sickly appendage, which the man slashed open with a dagger, catching the faintly luminescent, disturbingly pale blood or ichor that welled forth from the wound in a silver chalice.

I watched, transfixed, as he raised the bowl to his lips, drinking of the unwholesome substance. The chalice clattered to the ground a moment later, and the man shook, his body trembling in paroxysms of pain or ecstasy, I could not tell which. But what is important is this, this man, this leader of the Lithicans, was missing his left arm, a wound he was lucky to survive at all, and yet, between one heartbeat and the next, his arm was returned! It was a feat of horrible magic such as I have never witnessed, and pray that I may never see again.

My transfixion was broken by the return of the black noise, which I realized must come from the horror that lived in the strange dark pool. I know not how, but the thing must have sensed my presence—who can say what organs of sight or knowledge such a foreign thing may have? But the noise, that half vibration, half sound, I felt it return, and I knew with a tortuous certainty that it was directed at me. The horror’s attention sought me out.

I think that I went insane then, feeling myself under the weight of an abomination such as I had never even conceived of before. What is sanity though? A category of normalcy such as most men agree upon. Perhaps I did go mad then, and perhaps I am still mad. All I know is that I fled, wildly, instinctively, screaming in terror from that pit of Stygian horrors. When the others found me, it took them hours to calm me, and nearly a day before they could make me speak in a coherent way of what had happened, of what I had seen. They said I was singing when they found me, old children's songs. I never told them what I saw there, what the last thing I glimpsed before the world cracked around me, and insanity thrust itself gibberingly into my mind.

For I saw the abomination as it gazed upon me, raising its fetid claw with the woman held there, and I knew for what the woman was intended, the reason it was given to the horror, and it seemed to me that the woman was none other than my beloved wife.

I pray I was mad, for if I was sane… if I make it back to Neretha, deliver word of that demonic cavern, and deliver the warning to my people… If I manage this, I will return to my home, and I will find the truth.

If I was sane, and I return to my home and find her missing, I shall not be sane long.
AQ DF MQ AQW Epic  Post #: 12
11/1/2010 19:57:29   
Eukara Vox
Legendary AdventureGuide!


 Sounds in the Dark
by superjars

He could not see the man standing directly beside him, but the heavy panting let him know that his comrade was still there. It felt like they had been walking for days, but more than likely it had been only a few hours. The last torch had burnt out a while ago—how long ago, he could not even guess. Time was something that he felt completely out of touch with right now. Without the regular cycles of the sun and moon, light's natural course through the heavens, he was lost, without any connection. All that he could measure was the time between each breath, each slow, measured step they took through this maze of dark and foreboding tunnels. By his estimation, they had gone either 28,349 steps or 12,597 breaths, whichever you prefer to count by.

“Are you still there?” the voice next to him asked tentatively and gruffly, the lack of water that both of them had evident in the man's already gravelly voice. “We're going to die down here, aren't we?”

“Why would you even ask that?” the man replied, his own voice just as hoarse. “Why would you even think such a thing? There's really nothing that can kill us down here and I'm sure someone will miss us very soon and come looking for us. It's only a matter of time before we're rescued.”

The assurances he made sounded disingenuous even to himself, as if he did not believe what he heard spilling from his own mouth. And if he was honest with himself, he knew there was actually very little chance that anyone would come looking for them here, and even less of a chance that if they did find them they could get them out of here. There was a reason these caves had been declared forbidden to outsiders and that the people who lived in their shadows revered and respected them as much as they did. Very few ventured very far into the tunnel's depths or approached them at all, except to lay a gift in their open maws and retreat back to the bright plains that lay beneath their watchful blare.

But for Anton and Bernholdt, this had been a place of mystery and danger that they must explore. Damn their curiosity was the only thought running through both men’s minds as they sat in the darkness, straining to see something, anything around them.

“Hey, what was that!” Bernholdt's voice quavered, his hand reaching out towards his friend.

“What was what? I can't see anything in here and neither can you.”

“I know that! I felt something brush against my leg,” he muttered, an annoyed tone cutting through the words. His voice cracked slightly as he spoke, an undercurrent of fear breaking through the frustration evident in it.

“Awww... poor baby. Do you need your mommy?” his friend responded, cutting himself short as he burst out laughing. “Whoa! What the hell was that!”

“Wait, what? You felt it too?”

“Yeah, there's something in here with us.”

“I was trying to tell you that! I thought you said there wasn't anything dangerous down here?!”

“There isn't. I've been down here several times and there's been nothing even stirring down here.”

“Well, there's something here now. What the hell are we going to do about it?”

“I don't know. Shut up so I can think.”

The two men fell into an uneasy silence, both retreating into their own thoughts as they listened to the darkness that surrounded them. Where before they heard only silence, now their ears and minds began to play tricks on them. The sounds of something scuttling across the ground nearby and of another thing scraping against the wall caused the two men to move closer to each other, both unwilling to admit their fright, but feeling it all the same. And for quite a while, neither felt comfortable breaking the silence, lest they speak their fear and terror into existence.

It was Bernholdt who broke the silence first. At first he could feel his comrade standing next to him, his very presence a small reassurance in the gathering darkness. Then, suddenly, he wasn't there anymore. Anton was gone, no breathing or other sounds indicating he was anywhere nearby.

“Anton?” he breathed, reaching out for the man, searching with his fingers for a sign of him. “This isn't funny, Anton. Stop messing around!”

A cold bead of sweat slid slowly down the back of Bernholdt's neck, sending a slight shiver up his spine. He crouched low, feeling the ground around him for some sense that Anton was close. Perhaps he had simply fainted and been knocked unconscious? He tried to avoid thinking about the worst case scenario, pushing it to the back of his mind. But there it sat, taunting him, telling him that all was lost, that his friend would not return and that whatever had gotten him would soon be coming after the one that had been left behind. The feeling increased when his hand reached out and found something wet, warm and sticky, coupled with a faint scent of copper.

“Oh my god, oh my god, OH MY GOD!” he screamed, the words ripping from his throat, coming out without his permission. He cut himself short with a hand clamped over his mouth, brain trying to grapple with the fact that he now had blood smeared on his hands, blood that his mind had him convinced belonged to Anton. Tears sprung to his eyes unbidden, despite attempts on his behalf to hold them back, and the muscles in the pit of his stomach tightened, vitriol coursing up his throat as he held back the tide of vomit seeking for an exit.

The man curled into a ball, trying to make himself as small and unobtrusive as possible, seeking to hide from the thing which haunted his waking moments. It felt like he lay there for hours, huddling close to the ground, shivering from fear or cold—he knew not which. But nothing happened. There was no other sound, no other presence, nothing which could tell him anything about what had happened to Anton. And also, nothing which identified the creature that must assuredly be with him in the darkness, waiting for the correct moment to strike. The terror was palpable around him, sticking to his clothes, pulling at his hair. Sweat formed on the back of his neck, running down his spine and drying at the small of his back.

After what seemed an eternity with nothing happening, he raised his head, spotting a glimmer of light in the distance. Tears sprung to his eyes and he began to crawl forward, slowly at first, rocks digging into his hands and knees. He sped up with each movement forward, until he was flying over the ground, the light becoming brighter as he moved closer and closer to it. Finally, he got to the point where he could struggle to his feet and limp the rest of the way towards the light.

It burned low and light, flickering red and yellow, growing larger until it could easily be distinguished as a torch. He tripped as he came into a large open, room, a single man standing calmly in the middle and staring back at him.

“Help me! My friend has gone missing and I need help finding what happened to him,” the man spluttered out, stopping short of the torch-carrying man and panting heavily towards the ground.

“Excuse me?” the other man responded, his voice taking an eerily familiar tone.

“We need to search through these caves and find my friend! What's wrong with you?!”

“Oh. I mean no disrespect, but you entered these caves on your own. I'm not sure who you are referring to. But excuse me, I am being rude. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Anton.”

The light from the torch flickered and went out.

He could not see the man standing directly beside him...
AQ DF MQ AQW Epic  Post #: 13
11/2/2010 16:48:27   
Eukara Vox
Legendary AdventureGuide!


 Falls
by superjars

Darkness surrounded him. He could feel it, taste it, smell it; palpable and consuming around him. It invaded his body and soul, violating him in more ways than he could fathom were possible. He tried to cry out, but no sound would come. He tried to thrash against it, but could feel no movement. There was nothing but a terrible weight resting upon him, pushing him further into the darkness that assaulted him.

He could only vaguely remember being pulled away from his friends, grasped so suddenly that he hadn’t even had a chance to react before they disappeared into the spreading gloom. He had strained around him to see where he was being taken, or what was taking him, but try as he might, his eyes would not accustom themselves to the darkness so he could perceive once more. In fact, nothing worked like it should in this place; all of his senses were deadened from the outside world, if any such place even existed.

He sank deeper into the abyss, feeling the nothing press into his chest, his body being slowly crushed beneath several thousand tons. And then, as quickly as it had begun, the pressure stopped. His lungs forced him to pull a deep, dusty gasp of air into his lungs, setting off a chain reaction whose inevitable end was Kastio sputtering and coughing as he spread prone on the library floor. The darkness behind his eyes was lit from beyond by lamps and candles which were ever-present in the grand building, and the sound of others recovering around him was welcome to his repressed ears. They had returned from hell, together and home at last.

As the man with many jars slowly opened his tired eyes, pushing himself slowly to a sitting position to examine his surroundings, his vision fell upon his fallen brethren. While all others brushed dust and dirt from their apparel, he did not stir. A knot tightened in Kastio’s stomach, a feeling of dread and horror passing over him as he stared out upon one of his closest of friends, a fellow worker and one with whom he had spent many nights at the library, discussing a variety of interesting and important topics. He staved off a feeling of nausea that crept up his throat, looking to express his inner pain through outward action, pushing the bile back down into his stomach.

He watched as if in slow-motion as their headmistress leapt to her feet, sprinting over to the fallen man, intent on bringing him back to the land of the living. A few unbidden tears streaked down the tall man’s dirty face as he watched the woman kneel before the broken, green form, leaning down to listen to what could be the man’s final words.

Do you think you have escaped…?

Kastio’s ears perked up at the voice resonating within his skull, a feeling of cold dread trickling down the back of his neck. He tore his eyes away from the grisly scene of Samak’s collapsed figure and searched around for the origin of the sounds he now heard. For the first time, he began to notice that beyond the circle of lights which blazed around their group, the entirety of the library was plunged into inky darkness. Where normally there would be thousands of people sorting and reading and enjoying the library, now it was inhabited by dark creatures of every shape, size and species. He could see things flitter past the edges of his vision, barely visible beyond the circle of light they now stood within.

You have not escaped from me. Even now, you are within my world, under my control. My dear Kastio, be a dear and go open one of the windows. I have a present for our friend, Eukara…

The tall man resisted the man’s words, seeking to call out to his compatriots, to warn them about the impending danger. But all of them had gathered around their beloved leader and the brave figure clad altogether in a deep shade of green. And he was so far away from them, standing at the edge of the ring of light, his flickering shadow barely caressing the edge of the darkness. A sole candle was all that stood between him and being plunged into the utter darkness. Words would not come as he attempted to call out to the others, and then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a figure dressed entirely in black shadows, barely perceptible against the darkness that surrounded him, walk up to the candle, take a deep breath and blow it out.

He was immediately plunged into darkness once again, even as he reached out to halt the man’s advance. Without volition, he felt his body begin to move forward, heading directly towards the nearest window. He strained against it, but there was no stopping the compelling force that now held him captive. He tried to turn his head to look at the others, tried to draw their attentions to his plight, but it was all for naught. Whatever had him, held him fast, slowly dragging his resisting form closer and closer to the window.

After what seemed an eternity, he reached his destination, the window now easily within his grasp. His hands reached out for the handle of the window, his eyes staring out unseeingly into the dark night. As he lifted the handle, pulling the window open and exposing the interior of the library to the forces gathered without, he felt control returning to him. He turned his head to look at his friends, for the first time seeing the bright green form of Gianna rushing forwards to stop him, with the lanky figure of Xor beside her, their mouths open with shouts of warning for him to stop. His breath caught in his throat as he slowly pivoted his head back to the window to look out at what he had given passage to.

There were hundreds of them out there, each one looking like thin black strands of some fibrous string. They sped in his direction, and with a sick feeling, Kastio deduced exactly what these were: he had opened up the library to an infestation of book-consuming organisms that he had only read about in legend. And yet, here they were, conjured from some ethereal realm to wreak havoc on all that the man held dear.

He strained to reach the window, hoping to close it before they got into the library and began eating the very things he had spent his life collecting, but he was much too late. With a sound like rushing wind, a bundle of the string-like creatures burst through the window, bowling into him and knocking him to the ground, his head cracking fiercely against the hard wooden floor of his beloved home. As he watched through blurry eyes, hundreds of the stringy beings sailed above him, rushing into the library and attacking whatever literature was close by.

Ashamed and burdened by the way in which he had allowed himself to be used, the tall man curled up into a ball, tears streaming like rivers down his face, the maniacal laughter of the shadowy man reaching his ears and a few lingering words trailing through the edges of his thoughts…

You will give me what I want…


To the Esteemed Author Alexander Shiveran,

Before I convey the news which I have been tasked with bringing to you, I must gush a bit to you about how much of an honor it is to be able to send you this response. Having collected several of your works and heard of your many exploits in Imla from natives, I must say that you are by far one of the great authors of the multiverse. I have long been a fan of yours and hope that you will continue your illustrious career of carrying the written word to those who can appreciate its art.

But enough gushing and on to the news at hand. The reason that this letter comes from me, and not my esteemed colleague Xor, is because he is busy at work purging the library of shadows from a recent infestation. He is very distraught over the state of his archives and refused to write anything until he had everything in order. You know how he gets sometimes. Regardless, I am privileged to write in his place.

I suppose I should start at the beginning: after much searching, we finally found our way to the beloved Eukara, pulling her from harm's way, or so we thought. It turns out that all of our jumping about through portals brought us to the attention of one evil and horrible mage. After we escaped his capture and returned to the library, he began a siege against our beloved haven. Even now, we continue the struggle to repulse the last vestiges from this place and return order to this place. Speaking of which, I'll have to cut this short; I'm needed to do some clearing with my particular skills. All of us here hope to hear from you and Slash again soon.

Best wishes,

Kastio Lelit, Book Gatherer and Literature Connoisseur
AQ DF MQ AQW Epic  Post #: 14
11/2/2010 16:50:54   
Eukara Vox
Legendary AdventureGuide!
The Lone One
by Mordred


Dark in the night of Doomwood
Is a lone warrior, who fights for himself.
He stands alone, and takes no "sides."
He finds them petty, despite what
"Glorious" causes they have.
War bears naught of glory,
Nor even the resemblance of such an ideal.
Nay, he fights for honor.
It's all he has.
It's all he can depend on.

It makes him strong
To fight on both "sides."
He sees both of their faults,
And that both "sides" are wrong,
Yet right.
This lone warrior looks like he stands for
One "side" at a given time,
But changes without a thought,
Seen as a fleeting shadow in
The night.

He can betray you in
An instant,
Or save you without the slightest indication.
He knows what's truly right,
And that is honor.
Both "sides" offer the same rewards:
Honor and bloodshed.
The warrior's seen too much of the latter,
And not enough of the former.
It sickens him to see such carnage.

He stalks off into the night,
Expecting to see the carnage
Of war outside Moonridge.
He is not surprised.
He uses the power of darkness himself,
But to see good heroes
Mindlessly throwing their lives away
In the devotion of one "side."
It is sickening to no end
To watch them slay each other, infected or not alike.

Of course, one of the mutants
Called a "zardbie" comes up
To him to spread a strange Z-Virus,
And he has no choice but to defend himself.
He fights off many such creatures,
Giving the illusion that he fights to end
The Infection. But he fights merely
To bring about an end to
The conflict. Not that particular
Conflict, but all conflict.

Of course, he only
Knocks the poor creature
Senseless. He knows it
Was a hero on the inside.
A foolish hero, but a hero
Nonetheless. The ones he fights "beside"
Fail to see this. They see zardbies
As creatures of the dark,
But they are slaves to a virus.
And a virus's purpose is to spread.

He then goes back to the center
Of Moonridge
To gaze at his reflection
In the fountain. He hates what he’s become.
He bears armor the color of dried blood,
And a hood of the same livery. His eyes cannot
Be seen from underneath the
Crimson lightning they emit. He has become
His enemy, the likes of Sepulchure,
Yet he does this in the hopes of ending the conflict.

Some call him a
Cut-throat, a mercenary.
There's even the occasional "Hey Fat!"
They don't understand.
They fail to realize how hard it
Is to stand alone in
A world of "sides."
But he knows that he embodies humanity
Itself.
He is:

~Mordred~
AQ DF MQ AQW Epic  Post #: 15
11/2/2010 16:56:25   
Eukara Vox
Legendary AdventureGuide!


 Shadows of the Heart
by ~jerenda

Like a ship torn from its moorings,
On the wild, wind-swept sea

He had failed.

The truth of that statement sunk into him with every step, a double-edged sword of mutual loss.

He had failed, and now there was no hope. The slim chance of salvation—for himself, for the world—was lost now. There would be no going back.

He walked on in the endless twilight, across a world broken and torn from grief. The Land of Desolation brought to life endless desert, interrupted only by the shattered remains of rocks and dying shrubbery.

I have fallen from the wreckage
Of who I used to be.

He remembered running, screaming her name at the top of his lungs. She was crying, fighting back the shadows that clutched at her, reaching out for him.

"Help," she called, "Help me!" and only he was left; no one else could hear so he was running, running as fast as he could, the ground blurring under his feet while the world narrowed to that struggling white-cloaked form being swallowed up by the living darkness. She was dwindling, more and more of her body wrapped in black coils and, putting on a final burst of speed, he dived for her grasping hands.

Their fingertips brushed. A spark of lightning ran between them, freezing time for one endless moment. The resultant implosion threw him backwards, straight into a wall of solid rock. As his head cracked against the granite and he fell to the floor, he saw the darkness swallow her up and vanish. The last spark of light extinguished. He gave himself up to a dreamless sleep.

All alone and all forsaken,
I'm searching for a light

The next few days were torture. The world cracked and reformed, blasted alternately by heat waves and ice storms. Her power, magnificent and bright, had halted the unmaking of the universe, but now it was gone and nothing stood between his world and the Destroyer.

Solid earth rippled under his feet, dropping away beneath him and ripping apart with a sound like thunder as he fought to keep his balance. Whirlwinds threatened to rip the skin off of him. Storms of insects rushed past him as he took shelter in the lee of a stone, tearing vegetation apart in their mad frenzy to escape the destruction that ruled the world. He saw them overtake an antelope racing ahead, and when the flood had passed all that remained were gleaming, parched-white bones.

In the distance, he swore he could hear the screams of dying children.

But I tremble on the knife's-edge
Of the dark abyss of night.

Now he walked along the endless desert, knowing it was over. No one would come to save him; he wasn't worth saving.

A shadow on the horizon broke the monotony, revealing itself to be a jagged crack in the landscape. He couldn't see to the bottom, lost as it was in the dim unchanging light, a gaping wound in the world matched only by the bleakness in his soul.

He stood, poised on the edge, gazing in, as a little voice inside his head whispered, Jump.
AQ DF MQ AQW Epic  Post #: 16
11/2/2010 17:01:45   
Eukara Vox
Legendary AdventureGuide!


 Letters to No One
by Clyde


People write about ghosts and goblins for Halloween, but not everyone finds those things scary. No, in this harsh reality we find an escape through dressing up like monsters and carving up pumpkins. While some enjoy the sugar rush of the five pounds of candy they just ate, others do not enjoy this luxury. What people don't see is that Halloween is actually the light side to a dark day for others...




Dear Mom and Dad,

I know you must miss me but don't worry, I have been fine! In case you were wondering, it's me, Miles D. Noone (pronounced Noon, like the time of day. I remembered this time, Mom!). Unlike the others who forget their names, where they came from, and all that, I remembered. You guys named me after your favorite jazz musician, Miles Davis. That was how you guys met, remember? Whenever I am down I always hum one of his songs.

How have you guys been? I hope life has been good for you guys. As you already know I have been fighting this war for our country. It's been years and still no change in sight. However, we continue to do what we are told. Every time we are given orders it ends with "and you'll be one step closer to returning home!" It always made me happy hearing that part. The older kids are skeptical as usual, saying that we will never leave this "hellhole" (sorry, Mom, I'm just quoting what I heard).

All the younger kids do is cry and kids my age only complain and try to be like the older kids. These older kids keep their cool and are better soldiers than we are. Currently it is broken up like this: ages seven to eleven are the little kids, twelve to fifteen are the middle kids, sixteen to eighteen are the older kids. After that, they always seem to randomly disappear. Some of us believe that they did such a good job they were sent home. The rest of us think some aliens took them away and ate them! There are some adults with us actually; however, all they do is look over us like angels. But aren't you supposed to feel safe with a guardian angel?

We just got finished raiding another enemy territory. This time it was a small town. Thankfully, they were evacuated before we arrived and there were no enemy soldiers hiding out. I am tired of this unnecessary bloodshed and just want to go home, but don't let anyone hear you say that or you get called a crybaby. They took their food with them, unfortunately. On the upside, we actually got to sleep in our own beds these past few nights.

Usually at this time of the month we would be getting our costumes on and our bags ready. That reminds me, Happy Halloween! I know it is Halloween because last week was my birthday. Yep, that means I turned fourteen, but you already knew that, didn't you? It has been about, what, six or seven years? I don't exactly remember since it was so long ago. All I remember is being dragged away from you guys and mom screaming.

In my last letter I sent you a birthday wishlist. You can cross off books: me and the other guys actually found an abandoned library. Some of the books I can't understand like "The Art of War" by Sun Tzu. Zoo? I am not sure how to pronounce it, but I will learn before I come home! I also stumbled upon the books you used to read to us when we were younger. Those were the times.

Oh, how are Jamie and Samantha doing? The last time I saw them, Sam started the fourth grade and Jamie could barely walk. I've gotten pretty tall, I think I can take Sam now. And I want to teach Jamie so many things like a good big brother, like how to play sports or even how to kiss a girl. Well, I don't know how myself, but I will learn and do it someday! I miss them, I really do. Tell them both that when I get home, I get my own room.

Remember that book I was telling you about in my last letter? The one that I found that survived underneath the ashes and burnt remains of old books? Yeah, I just finished it. It was about our country's great and tragic past. However, I wasn't sure why they would try to burn it so I asked the older kids. They told me it was because everyone was trying to erase history and start over again. Is this true?

Sometimes I stop and try to remember how this all happened. All I can remember is being handed a gun and taught how to use it. They also taught us how to set up a quick shelter and who our enemy was. There are some things I wish I couldn't remember. Things I wish I could unsee and moments I wish I could undo. What shocked me the most was who we were fighting. We were actually fighting kids our own age! I can't say much more: last time I sent a letter with "confidential" information, they took away my rations for a week and hit me.

Anyways, the weirdest things happen whenever we hang out in some of these towns. One time our enemies' citizens took some of the younger soldiers away. What about their parents? Do they not care they are taking someone else's kid? This one man took Johnny's little brother away to this big house. Yep, it was like one of those posters with the fireman carrying the kid in both of his arms as he saves him from a burning building. It makes me hope that someday someone will also save us, but the older kids told us that no one is ever coming to save us, but I don't believe that! I know someone will and I will be waiting for that day.

Speaking of waiting, I'm still waiting on your letters. I know they're on their way. When I asked the only adult with us when do we get our mail, he laughed. He said that since we move around so much your mail takes even longer to get to us. Hopefully one day we will stop moving so much and I can finally read your replies.

When I was younger I remember wanting to be a fireman or a doctor, maybe even a superhero. I never imagined that I would spend my life as a soldier fighting some war I know nothing about. All these nightmares causing sleepless nights and these long and bloody days always have me hoping. Hoping that everything I'm doing is protecting you.

Love,
Miles D. Noone

P.S.: Tell Jamie, Samantha, and everyone that I miss them and I will be home soon, I promise...
AQ DF MQ AQW Epic  Post #: 17
11/3/2010 15:15:20   
Eukara Vox
Legendary AdventureGuide!


 Solitude
by ~Micosil

Steps echoed in the empty halls of the tower as a man, dressed in the rags of what might have once been a robe, made his way upwards. For several minutes, nothing interrupted the constant, slow ascent, until a coughing fit broke the still silence and bent the walker in half, clutching his throat.

The noise destroyed the illusion of stillness in the tower, and the cawing of crows made clear that the disturbance hadn't passed undetected, but the oppressive silence quickly quietened the animals again. One of them flew towards the man, cawed twice as if murmuring, and then left the stairs as the man rose.

Urgency lined the human's steps now as he followed the bird through abandoned rooms, avoiding ruined tapestries, scratched furniture, and the bones of those who had been unfortunate enough to be here when this tower changed owners. His path took him through holes in torn walls, bordering craters that the siege had caused in the tower. He dared not look down to the abyss that separated him from the ground, until, finally, he arrived at his destination.

The crow landed atop a chair in one room which didn't seem that different from the rest. The human hurriedly ran after it and shut the door behind him as the bird flew away through a broken window, avoiding nimbly the sharp edges, away into the ever-clouded sky. He couldn't follow it, much as he wanted to, so instead he tried to calm his breathing, knowing that if he'd been led here, he was safe as long as he was inside.

He had barely managed to slow down his breaths when a chill ran up his spine, followed a few seconds later by a soft clicking noise that came ever closer, from the corridor. A voice whispered softly in his head, promising happiness, joy, proclaiming goodwill, compassion, love...

The man pressed his hands to his ears as soon as the voice started speaking, curled into a ball, and started singing in his head, forcing the pictures of what he'd seen those creatures do through his mind, to avoid falling under their spell.

Mary had a little lamb

A corpse on the ground, under the paws of a large creature wrapped in shadows that turned its features indistinguishable but for two sharp, spear-like tendrils; the dead human's face frozen in a scream of agony as the creature held its still bleeding heart and, slowly, ate it.

Its fleece was white as snow

An army of the creatures—hills, mountains, forests, burning towns, all covered in moving shadows as far as the eye could see—charging against a pitifully small human army formed around the tower, banners from what remained of all kingdoms standing together against the relentless tide... and screams of agony, blowing of horns, screeches of alien joy as the creatures charged forth, reveling in mankind's last stand.

And everywhere that Mary went

A voice, echoing with magic, booming through the battlefield. A second's pause, a bated breath's length of silence, and then screeches of pain, cries of victory, cheering, then of horror and pain as the murderous tides flowed once more, catching the celebrating humans off-guard, crushing them mercilessly on their desperate way to the tower, killing by the thousands in a chorus of tormenting, ear-shattering screams when they were too slow to retreat.

The lamb was sure to go

Warm corpses covering the floor of every single one of the tower's levels, magic assaulting its walls, blood dripping from the ceiling, from the walls, into the closet where he hid as the things walked past him, an echoing chant in an alien language descending from the tower's summit, clouds gathering in the sky, one last beam of sunlight touching the tower before finally vanishing, never to shine upon it again.

With a gasp, he realized the voice had stopped, and he stopped his murmuring, but didn't dare move for a few more minutes, until the crow came back through the window and, softly, tapped the door.

He followed his flying guide back to the stairs and kept walking upwards. As he moved, his steps became softer, more careful. In one certain moment his guide left the staircase, and so did he, standing next to the crow on the edge of one of the large, gaping holes in the tower, looking out for a few minutes.

Clouds covered the sky as far as his sight reached, but there was some light coming from far away like small, star-like dots—the cities that had been built by the survivors deep within the dying forests, surrounded by torches in an eternal circle of light to ward off the murderous creatures.

Near the edge of the forests a fight took place, with several of the creatures that haunted his dreams fighting against some humanoid figures—not humans, for they had beaks and feathers, but their allies. The magic that paralyzed humans with fear did not affect these brave fighters, and the skirmish seemed to be far more balanced than the war with the humans had been.

The man stepped slowly backwards, not daring a look at the foot of the tower. There were usually things there, and there was the temptation to jump. There was always the temptation to jump, to end things, to be done with having to hide and flee and climb every day, but he couldn't do it, because that was what they wanted.

His guide ruffled its feathers, catching the human's attention through the corner of his eye, and they both started moving once more up the seemingly endless stairs. They started hearing the presence of other creatures in the tower, but they were careful, leaving the stairs and hiding when they came, the guide always knowing where they were.

The further they rose, the more common the clicking noises became, but the man fought the fear, fought the voices, and kept climbing, one foot first, then the other, focusing on the steps, the rhythm, One, two, one, two, nothing more than that, nothing out there, nothing looking for me, just climbing, just rising, don't think.

He finally reached the top of the stairs, breathing heavily, on the verge of tears... and here there were no voices, no clicking, no cold. In the middle of the room there was one golden candle, lit in the center of a circle, surrounded by runes, its wax as intact as the day it'd been lit, shining brightly.

The man walked excitedly towards the circle and knelt besides it, memories slowly rising to his mind, the meaning of the pictograms returning to him... he remembered the words, the enchantment, the effort it had taken to carve that circle, the magic of every single archmage humanity had ever given birth to focused towards this single task... and it had almost been enough. Almost.

For the runes now had been twisted, another circle drawn around them, harnessing the very magic that had changed those creatures, causing them to approach death when exposed to light, towards another purpose—creating a protective cloud barrier that would keep sunlight, moonlight, and even starlight away.

A corpse of one of the monsters lay next to the circle, its life probably forsaken when it faced the candlelight next to the runes for the many hours that it would've taken to corrupt the spell. The old archmage grinned slowly when he saw his foe's body, and pressed one of his fingertips to the sharp point of the creature's natural weapons, a trickle of blood covering his fingertip. And then, slowly, reveling in the moment, he drew a red line over the runes, smudging them, defiling them carelessly.

The magical words lit up for a fraction of a second, a shining bright light that died out as fast as it had appeared, turning into a shockwave of magical power, tearing the roof and the walls to shreds, causing the floor to collapse atop the stairs, ripping flesh from bone from the smiling archmage and tossing it hundreds of meters down, where it hit the ground with a sickening sound, splattering into a thousand pieces as the sun lit the tower once more.
AQ DF MQ AQW Epic  Post #: 18
11/3/2010 15:17:15   
Eukara Vox
Legendary AdventureGuide!


 Pomegranate Seeds
by Wildroses

Not many plants thrive without light. That is why few plants grow in the Underworld. But despite the ever-present dark, only partially held back by lanterns the Underworld’s King Hades had placed around his kingdom, some plants still grew. There were numerous Asphodel flowers stubbornly refusing to die. There were orchards of fruit dedicated to feeding the people who had died. On the outer reaches of the Underworld boundary there was a grove of willow and poplar trees. There were also the native flowers of the Kingdom of the Dead, which needed dark instead of light. Hades, in a typical failure of creative naming, had christened them Death flowers.

It was these flowers Core was currently weaving into a necklace. Death flowers, with their black petals, looked extremely fetching when placed in her gold hair. She was sorry she couldn’t wear Death wreaths all the time, but the Queen of the Underworld had a crown of precious metals and gemstones to wear during formal occasions, such as court. Hades convened his court every week to efficiently deal with all the issues needing the King’s attention. The Queen was required to attend, so every week Core faithfully appeared. It was why she was currently wearing a gown so ornate it was only possible to walk at a stately pace, instead of the simpler, less restrictive styles she preferred.

Slipping the completed flower chain around her neck, Core whistled. “Hyacinth! Crocus! Poppy! Rose! Come here!” she called out to her dogs. Crocus and Hyacinth did not appear. Poppy didn’t even wake up. Two of Rose’s three heads gave Core an earnest look communicating that she was happy to do whatever Core wanted if only she could figure out what it was. Core sighed. She didn’t have time to keep calling those names until the dogs came. If she tarried much longer she’d be late. Hades had told her once punctuality was a trait rulers should strive to cultivate.

“Cerberus!” she called reluctantly. “Come here.” Instantly Hyacinth and Crocus came bounding out from underneath bushes and Poppy woke up, so Core had four triple headed dogs congregating around her feet. “Your names are Hyacinth, Crocus, Rose and Poppy, not Cerberus!”

All the dogs had let the flower names slide past them without the slightest hint of recognition, but at Core’s ‘Cerberus’ they all began bouncing up and down trying to look especially alert. “Gah!”

Core had originally been incredulous when she found out Hades named all his dogs Cerberus, although discovering he’d named one of the most eye-catching and unique flowers she’d ever come across the Death Flower had slightly prepared her.

“What’s wrong with Cerberus?” Hades had said, bristling slightly at the disapproval in Core’s voice when she bought up the subject. “It’s a good name for a three-headed dog.”

“It is, but you can’t call all your dogs Cerberus.”

“Yes I can. I’ve been breeding dogs called Cerberus for years,” Hades said.

“What’s wrong with calling just one Cerberus and giving the others different names? Hyacinth is a nice name for a dog. So is Poppy...”

“Then everyone would have to remember which name belonged to which dog. That would get confusing. If every dog has the same name all anyone needs to do is call: ‘Cerberus’, and all the dogs will know it means them and come running.” By this stage, all the dogs in the area had heard the voice of their master calling their name and were coming running. Hades beamed at them. “See?”

Core had not seen, and had not been dissuaded from introducing individual names. Unfortunately, even though most subjects of the Underworld were flatteringly quick to adopt any suggestions their new Queen offered, the Underworld’s dogs were proving remarkably unwilling to grasp the concept that they were not called Cerberus. This was underlined for Core as she entered into the throne room.

“Please take these flowers and the puppies back to my chambers,” Core ordered, handing the one of the serving spirits her armful of dark blossoms.

“Certainly, your highness,” she replied. “Come along, Cerberus.”

“Their names are....” but the puppies were all obediently following the spirit out of hearing.

“I’m afraid you don’t have much chance of winning that battle, my dear. You’re fighting hundreds of years of racial memory. You look ravishing.” Hades gave Core a smile which didn’t quite reach his eyes and held out the Queen’s crown. “Bend your head.”

Core let Hades place the crown on her. “Thank you.” Looking uncertainly into his eyes, she added: “Is something the matter?”

Hades took her arm and helped Core and her dress up the raised platform to their thrones. “Hermes requested an audience.”

“Is that all? That’s not something to be worried about. Hermes works for you.”

“Part time. When he isn’t working as a messenger,” said Hades. Once Core had sat down he added: “He may well have a message from Demeter.”

At hearing her mother’s name, Core’s hands, which had been arranging the falls of her skirt in a more flattering fashion, paused for a moment. “I suppose after a year it’s past time she sent me a message.” Core kept her eyes on her fingers, smoothing the fabric of her gown over her lap. “I think you’d better open the session now, Hades. You may run late otherwise. Punctuality is one of the desirable traits a ruler should strive to cultivate.”

To her relief, Hades did what she had suggested without trying to continue that line of conversation. Core settled back to listen to the petitioners. Nobody had ever told her not to speak during formal occasions, but Core was highly conscious that a childhood spent growing flowers in the Overworld had not adequately equipped her in matters relating to the afterlife and the Underworld. So for now she listened and learned.

When it was Hermes' time to approach the throne, he gave Core a friendly grin. He was her brother, and had been her friend before her marriage (in fact Core knew at one time he had asked her mother for her hand), so it wasn’t an overly familiar gesture, but Core couldn’t smile back as Hermes made his bow. “I am here on behalf of Father Zeus.”

All the anxiety in Core left, freeing her to repay Hermes’ grin. It was a message from father, not mother. Everything was going to be fine... “He bids me to lead the Lady Core back into the sunlight and reunite her with her mother.”

Core’s anxiety returned to her threefold. All her efforts in trying to be a Queen Hades wouldn’t be ashamed of helped her keep her face composed, but she didn’t quite manage to repress a tiny whimper. “No.”

“Uh... No,” Hades repeated, loud enough for everyone else to hear. “She’s Queen now, and my wife. She belongs here.”

Hermes frowned. “Zeus commands it.”

“He already gave me permission to marry Core. He can’t change his mind now.”

“With all due respect, he can. Zeus is the ruler of the Olympians, He outranks the King of the Underworld. Not to mention you did not seek Demeter’s consent.”

“Of course I didn’t. I knew she’d never give it.”

“That is not relevant,” Hermes said. “You still didn’t seek it.”

“It’s not like seeking Demeter’s permission to marry her daughter did you and your brothers any good.”

“Well, it’s not like seeking Zeus’s permission and kidnapping Core did you any good either!” Hermes snapped. “You can’t keep her here.”

“I didn’t kidnap her! You think just because I rarely leave my Kingdom I don’t know how to be charming to women? There are a lot more women down here than up there.” As Core’s eyes narrowed Hades added hurriedly: “Not that that matters to me now I’m married! You’re the only one I try to charm these days, dear!”

Hermes coughed to draw Hades and Core’s attention back to himself. “There are witnesses who saw you and heard Core screaming.”

“She’d never traveled in a fast-moving chariot before! Do you seriously think I could have forced an unwilling, fully grown Goddess into coming somewhere she didn’t want to go at the same time as controlling four horses galloping at...ow!”

Core kicked Hades, hiding the movement of her foot beneath her elaborate court dress. “Stop it. It isn’t important. Focus on making him leave without me!”

“Um... this isn’t important. You’re leaving without Core, Hermes.” Hades' words were firm, but his tone did not sound nearly as certain. It was his tone and not his words Hermes reacted to.

“I’m sorry, Hades, but she has to come with me. Zeus is serious. If Core doesn’t come back Demeter is going to kill the entire race of men by famine. She’s permitted nothing to grow ever since you took her daughter. If Demeter succeeds none of us Gods will have anyone to rule over or offer sacrifices. Not even you. People need to be born and live before they die.”

“Don’t send me back, Hades, please…” Core stared intently at Hades with the most pleading expression she could muster. But Hades wasn’t looking at her, he was looking at Hermes. Hermes' expression was implacable and unyielding.

Hades sighed. “I guess you have to go then, my dear, seeing as Zeus commands it and your mother is so unhappy.”

It took every shred of self control Core had not take off her crown and hurl its considerable weight at Hades' head. He knew it, if his apprehensive appearance was anything to go by. “Now, now, dear, don’t look like that. The King of the Underworld is a worthy husband. Do think kindly of me, Core.” One blistering look communicated quite clearly to Hades just how kindly Core was thinking of him. Hades probably would have started edging his throne away if it wasn’t bolted in place. “You’ll still be Queen of the Underworld up there. If anyone makes you unhappy I can send some of my servants...”

Core stopped listening. The rage was leaving her. “It was you I cared about, Hades. Never being a Queen. Only you,” Core said. She wasn’t trying to be quiet anymore, but despair sapped her voice of its volume to the point only Hades could hear.

Running in her court gown turned out to be impossible. Within five steps Core tripped badly, ripping the skirt, losing her crown, and injuring her arms and face. She barely even noticed the pain, too intent on escaping. It was easier to run with torn skirts and no crown. Even though Core had no conscious idea where she was running, subconsciously it was the closest flowers and trees which drew her when she needed comfort. When Hades caught up she was clinging to the trunk of a pomegranate tree.

“I’m not going back!”

“Core... Demeter is your mother. It’s only natural she wants to see you again.”

“Then why hasn’t she come herself? All your agents in the Overworld confirmed mother knew where I was nine days after I left. I’ve been here a year now! Why didn’t she come visit if she wants to see me so bad?”

Hades bit his lip. “Hermes isn’t exaggerating about the genocide by famine project your mother is working on. If you don’t go back our immigration rate will cease after a brief surge...”

“She doesn’t really want me back, she just doesn’t want anyone else to have me!”

“Nobody is saying how long you have to go back for,” Hades said, gently wiping the blood off her mouth. “Just go for a week or two...”

“I can’t go back!” Core screamed. Hades' attempts to clean her face only made her realise she was injured, which made her even more hysterical. Blood and her mother were too closely linked in Core’s mind for her to achieve any degree of rational calm. “Not anymore! Now that I know what it’s like to be loved, I can’t go back to being dumped with retainers for months on end and being blamed for everything that goes wrong, and everybody believing mother over me just because she goes around telling everyone how much she loves me... Don’t make me go back to that. Please let me stay.”

“I can’t let you stay.”

“Please!”

“I have to. I don’t have a choice.” Hades was crying as well now. “Hermes is right. Zeus does outrank me. Go for now. It won’t be forever. Please don’t be mad at me.”

But Core was too badly lost in fear to be swayed by any pleas, even from someone she loved beyond reason. “I may as well go back forever. It looks like I’m not loved down here, either.”

“You know that isn’t true.”

Core turned her back. It was easier to say things she knew would hurt Hades when she couldn’t see his face. “Do I? It’s not like you’re acting like someone who loves me! You don’t! If you cared anything at all you’d make sure I had to stay down here and you wouldn’t care what it took!”

Hades grabbed her shoulders and pulled Core around with such force her flower necklace and bodice tore. “Fine.” Hades raised his hand. With the unthinking reaction born of experience, Core cringed in preparation for a blow, but all Hades did was pluck a pomegranate out of the tree. It was memory which struck Core instead of her husband.

“As you’re going to be Queen here, there isn’t very much you’re not allowed to do. Only two things, in fact. I don’t want you ever to go into Tartarus. The people there are dangerous. And don’t ever eat any food of the dead. That includes all the fruit trees.”

Core listened as best she could, still dazed from all the gifts of clothes, jewelery and puppies Hades had pressed on her, and the sumptuous wedding plans underway. “Why? Does it taste bad?”

“No. It’s just not a good idea for the living to eat the food of the dead. Darkness can have unpleasant side effects if it’s invited. Plus you’ll never be able to leave the Underworld. Not permanently, anyway.”

Before Hades could change his mind, Core snatched the pomegranate from him and savagely tore into it with her teeth, sucking until she felt seeds sliding down her throat.

“I can stay now.” Core sank down, unsure if her giddiness was relief or one of the unpleasant side effects Hades had spoke of. Hades wrapped his arms around her. Core let him, even though he was shaking so badly it made her dizzier.

Hermes found them like that. “Zeus wants Core out of here as soon as possible, Hades! I know you don’t like the message, but I’m only the messenger. You need to talk to Zeus. I’m taking Core back now. My life won’t be worth living if I come back without...” Hermes voice trailed into silence as Core unsteadily turned her face to him and he saw the pomegranate pulp smeared around her mouth. “Hades, what have you done? What have you done? How could you?”

“I can stay now,” Core repeated for Hermes benefit. Hermes merely tried to drag her upright.

“Quit staring like an idiot and give me a hand here,” Hermes yelled at Hades. “She’s clearly not going to be able to make it back out without both of us helping her.”

“She can’t go back. She ate the food of the dead.” Core tried to open her mouth to tell Hades that was a good thing, so quit speaking like he’d done something unforgivable, but Hermes, scowling, spoke first.

“I’ll be taking Core back long enough to see her parents. You’ll be coming with us to tell them what you did. This is not a message I want to give. I don’t see why I should have to, when it’s all your fault.”

It was a silent journey back to the Overworld. Hermes drove, pointedly not looking at Hades. “Can you walk, or do you still need to be carried?” Hermes asked at the end.

Core didn’t reply right away. After a year spent in the Underworld she’d forgotten how overwhelming the sun could be. “I can walk,” she said. “I don’t feel dizzy anymore.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Stronger.” There was very little vegetation on the ground. What was there looked distinctly poor. Core reached within herself to powers she wielded as a Goddess of flowers. With a speed that astonished her, the plants became greener, producing buds which burst open into a riot of vividly coloured petals, while the earth beneath her feet was pushing out shoots to cover the area.

“Core!”

Hearing her name instantly made Core forget about flowers. An all-too-familiar paralysis took hold as she watched her mother bearing down on her. Being embraced and kissed did not reassure her in the slightest. Hermes, Hades and Zeus were all watching. Demeter had always been affectionate whenever there were witnesses. It was why everybody tended to believe Demeter over Core. “You’ve been away too long,” Demeter said. “Far too long. Still, you’re back. Thank you for returning my child to me, Hermes. I’ll be leaving with her now.”

Core started trembling. It was when they were alone Demeter was most dangerous. Hades took a step forward. Hermes took a step back, stammering: “Um...about that...I’m afraid there were... complications. You tell her, Hades.”

Puzzlement soon faded from Demeter’s face, hardening into realisation and anger. “You didn’t eat anything while you were down there, did you, Core?”

Core shook her head. Safety was more highly prized than honesty at the moment.

“She ate some pomegranate. I gave it to her.” Hades may have been trying to deflect Demeter’s wrath towards him instead of Core. If so, it didn’t work. Core knew her mother and her moods intimately, and could tell not even the presence of witnesses were going to spare her. With all her soul, she wished to be saved. And within Core, the piece of darkness she’d claimed by swallowing the pomegranate seeds heard her.

Core never knew in any detail what she did. Demeter never spoke about the experience. Later on, she tried asking Hades. All he was able to tell her was that suddenly her entire appearance became a lot more terrible even though she still looked exactly the same, and he was extremely glad she’d been directing those vibes at someone who was not him, and while they’re on the subject he’d take it as a personal favour if she never, ever did that to him, please dear.

Hermes wasn’t able to impart any more enlightening facts, and Core never had the chance to ask her father about the incident because after that day he started avoiding her. Core could only be sure of one thing, which she’d known from the first instant the darkness within responded to her call. Demeter would no longer be able to control or hurt her.

“It’s true, mother. I did eat the seeds. I’ll have to return to the Underworld.”

Demeter still hadn’t fully recovered from her daughter’s mysterious yet devastating onslaught, but she hadn’t yet realised how completely relations had changed between them either. “I meant what I said. If you don’t come back, the race of men will all die and the world will become a wasteland.”

“It will not.” With this statement Core drew on every bit of regal assurance she’d learnt from twelve months as the Underworld’s Queen. “I shall not permit you to prevent the future growth of my kingdom. If I have to, I shall make sure the harvests return with spring.”

Demeter sneered. “You’re nowhere near strong enough.” She soon regretted those words.

It made Core angry, and the darkness sheltering within her again responded by lashing out. Demeter ended up on her knees.

“I am strong enough now. I have power over the darkness. Flowers need the dark as much as the light.” To add emphasis, Core waved her arms. Corn and wheat stalks broke the surface of the ground, growing with divinely commanded rapidity. “Plants die without sunlight reaching their leaves. And they die without the darkness surrounding their roots. I can bring harvest time back to men if you refuse to, and I shall, even if I have to stay up here half a year.”

“An excellent compromise!” Zeus broke in. He didn’t especially care which Goddess brought the harvest’s bounty back to men as long as someone did, and right now his heart’s desire was getting as much distance between him and his daughter as possible. “Clearly you’ll have to return to the Underworld for six months every year as you ate those seeds, but you can spend the other six months up here. Your mother and your husband can share your time. I wish you all well, and I really need to be heading back to Olympus now.”

Core nodded in farewell. “I should be returning to the Underworld. I cannot leave it today. I need time to set my affairs in order. I shall return in a week. If you haven’t let any crops grow in that time, mother, I shall arrange it myself.” Core reached out her hand to Hades. “Take me home.” In truth, the affairs she wanted to put in order consisted entirely of reassuring Hades that even though they had to part, it would only be temporary, it would in no way diminish her love for him, and it had damn well better not diminish his love for her, King I-can-be-charming-to-women, or else.

Doing so turned out to be much easier than she expected.

“I always knew one day you’d leave. Always,” Hades repeated. “You’re a flower Goddess. You can’t change what you are. You could never be truly happy away from all the nature stuff which belongs to the Overworld. I expected you to tell me you were leaving and not returning from your first day. Having you tell me you are leaving temporarily is more than I dreamed possible.”

Core leaned her head against Hades. “I’ll miss you dreadfully the six months we’re apart.”

“So will I. I may be able to visit sometimes. Not often though, if I keep departing for long periods my Kingdom will fall into a mess. Inform me if anyone gives you any trouble in the Overworld. I can send Death to touch their shoulder.”

Core smiled at the thought of somebody trying to give her trouble. Her new-found darkness responded, tinging her smile a joyful, impersonal malice. It would be these smiles which would soon cause people to begin calling her by a new name, Persephone, which means Bringer of Destruction.

“I am sure no one will ever cause me trouble ever again.” Core’s smile remained as she stared into her husband’s face, but the darkness left, taking the malice while leaving the joy. “Quite sure, my love. By the way, being charming to other women counts as giving me trouble.”

“Of course it does, dear.”
AQ DF MQ AQW Epic  Post #: 19
11/4/2010 21:38:49   
Eukara Vox
Legendary AdventureGuide!


 Dream Doll
by Eukara Vox

The bell rang quietly as she stepped through the door. Even though she really had no time at all, something pulled her to this store. Granted, it had been a while since she played with a doll, but the ones in this store were just so irresistible. Surely a few minutes spent here wouldn't be held against her at the office? She had just conducted one of the most important luncheons of her career, sealing the deal, and brought in the biggest client her firm had seen in three decades. So what if she was late back... She deserved this break.

The man behind the counter merely looked up at her from half-framed glasses and grunted an acknowledgement of her existence. Surprised, she nearly stepped back out of the store. What ever happened to the happy, smiling face of a toy salesman that she remembered from childhood stores? Swallowing, she made her way to the right side of the store to look at the dolls on display.

Each doll on this side of the room showed a tomboyish personality. Some wore jeans and t-shirts, some denim dresses that seemed stained with a patch of grass here or mud there. They reminded her of her own childhood. As she stood there, the memories of playdates and carefree adventures ran through her mind.

Moving along, the dolls slowly began to grow up. The ones that seemed almost teenage wore clothing fit for an athlete. Some wore sweats of various colours, but she noticed that pink showed up very little in these dolls. Almost as if purposely avoiding the colour. How funny, she mused to herself, just like me when I was that age. Yet, though she felt a connection to these dolls, she neither reached for them, nor longed to touch them.

"Who makes the dolls, sir?"

The man grunted again, not looking up from his crossword puzzle. "Dante does. I just sell them."

"Dante? Is he here? I would very much like to meet him. The dolls are so very beautiful."

"I regret that the artist is not available," he said, though there was no regret in his voice. "I see him rarely. His dolls come and go at odd intervals. Apparently, I only get one when the fancy strikes him to be creative."

The woman bit her lip in disappointment. She would have paid nearly anything to have the man commissioned to make her a doll. She had one in her mind, a doll she had as a child that her brothers destroyed in an act of pyromancy. She had loved that doll, and on that day, her belief that all people were good was destroyed. That was the day she put dolls from her mind and decided to grow up. For if she grew up, her brothers couldn't destroy her things anymore.

Sighing, she walked to the other side of the store. The tomboyish dolls soon disappeared, even the ones that grew into adults which resembled her to an extent, and gave way to such elegance that her breath was caught in her throat.

Such beauty... she thought as she reached out to touch one. At the last minute, she pulled back, afraid. These were the porcelain dolls, the ladies of poise and grace, of delicate features and flowing dresses. The young woman looked at her hands, then back at the dolls. Not her hands, that's for sure. No, she had the hands of a hard working, lower-middle class girl that finally worked her way up to something more.

She looked at her clothing, her plain business suit fit a figure that was more athletic than elegant. She tried smoothing out her skirt and blouse, hoping to give her normal body a better sense of curves... Curves like the dolls in front of her.

As a child, she had always admired the porcelain dolls. How she had longed to look like them - dresses that had personalities all their own, expressive eyes that bore into your soul, and elegant arms and legs that created the sense of gliding across the floor when she walked. She sighed again, heavily, as her eyes soaked in each and every doll on those shelves.

She stopped. There she was... The doll of her dreams. Creamy skin, smooth, with just a hint of definition in the muscle. Green dress embroidered... My God, she exclaimed silently as she felt the dress, the leaves of the dress are truly hand-embroidered. Her fingers traced over the leaves, giving an almost perfect impression of drifting lazily through the air until they fell in a pile at her feet. Of course, this was all sewn into the dress, not real, but for a moment it felt real.

Unable to control herself, she lifted the doll from its stand and looked into the big brown eyes, lightly shadowed with make-up. This... This is what she had dreamed of looking like as a little girl. This doll, this dress, this face, all that she had wished she could be and knew she never would. Everyone knew that tomboys, no matter how hard they tried, would never be a graceful belle.

She kissed the doll's carefully styled hair, and set her back on the shelf. Suddenly, her watch beeped, signaling it was now two in the afternoon. She blinked in astonishment. I've been here an hour! She looked around franticly, and began to rush out of the store. She paused briefly, looking once more at the brown-eyed porcelain doll with a pang of regret.

"Tell Dante that he does beautiful work. I will be back, I promise." And with a flurry of air and the ringing of the bell, she was gone.

The man merely grunted in return, his eyes never leaving his crossword puzzle.

* * * * * *


She sat sprawled across the small couch in her modest apartment. That had been close. The executives had played off her lateness as a result of post-closing celebration. They had excused her, but what choice had they? She had brought a multi-billion dollar conglomerate into their firm's strong hand, delivered with a bow. They had laughed and clapped her on the shoulder, wondering just what bar she dropped by for her little personal party. She hadn't the nerve to tell them she had spent the hour gazing at dolls.

They had treated her to dinner and drinks after hours, their way of saying thank you for filling their bank accounts with fat cash and perks. Sure, she would see some of that, but not like those above her. She kicked off her shoes and rubbed her feet. She hated wearing those heels. How on earth do women wear those everyday? Ridiculous footwear, I swear!

Eventually, she got up, more tired than anticipated and made her way to her bedroom for a hot shower and the warmth of her bed. She stood beneath the cascading hot water for what felt like eternity, willing the water to wash away the day's work. As she began to relax, she pulled out her body wash of lotus blossoms and vanilla and lathered, until the heady scent of the foam covered every inch of her body.

Reluctantly, the time came for her to leave the comfort of the shower and she slowly rinsed the foam away from her body. She watched it sluice off and run along the bottom of the shower slowly... Almost too slowly. It swirled around the drain almost dreamily and she blinked her eyes. Shaking her head, she knew she was more exhausted than she wanted to be. No book for her tonight, no reading of faraway places and handsome men that rescue you.

She pulled on her satin pajamas and climbed into bed, pulling the plush comforter up to her neck. She nestled down and slowly fell asleep, the faces of her newest clients floating in the air. Right before she succumbed to her fatigue, a pair of brown eyes looked at her unblinking, piercing her soul.

* * * * * *


She awoke with a start, finding herself completely beneath the comforter. Panicked, she tried to remove the heavy material, but found she couldn't move. Lift, damn you, lift! she directed at her arms, but they wouldn't respond. She tried to kick, but her legs were unresponsive too.

She tried to speak... But nothing came out. No sound, no muffled cries, nothing. Her mouth wouldn't move. She screamed, and heard it, but the sound was strange, as if it was faraway. Panic welled up in her mind, fear coursing through her thoughts as she struggled to understand what was happening.

She heard movement, mutterings that were quiet yet slightly crazed. A shadow moved around her bed, most likely from the light shining behind whoever was there. Surely she had locked the door as soon as she walked into the apartment. If this intruder had broken in, the noise from such a break in would have not only woken her up, but alerted her neighbours also. If it was a break-in.

Suddenly, she was unsure, as if something in her mind tried to remember something it didn't want to. The shadow stopped next to her head, and she trembled in fear... Yet, again, she didn't actually physically move, just felt the sensation of the trembling.

What she perceived as a hand made its way to the top of the comforter and grasped it. Slowly, the comforter was pulled lower until the light shined brightly in her eyes. Momentarily blinded, she blinked furiously, trying to adjust her eyes to the light.

She balked as she felt her body lifted and she tried to cry out, to fight back, but she was unable. She wanted to bite, scratch, kick and scream at her assailant, but she just laid in his grasp. Finally, the realisation that she was fated to have whatever this was happen to her, she sobbed, quietly, and tried to close her eyes. Even that was denied her, too. The woman had watched enough crime shows. What drug did this person administer to her that kept her in this state?

She was carried across the room and placed in a large bag, the sound of the zipper echoing down the hall. The sensation of lifting once again assaulted her mind and she wondered just how this was possible. The gait was uneven as she was carried, as if two different people were carrying the bag. An occasional grunt was all that she heard until she was loaded into what she assumed was a car.

The journey felt as if it took forever, the darkness consuming her. She cried to herself, ideas and horrors running through her mind. What are they going to do with me? Who are they? Why me? She wished she could wipe the tears from her face, only to realise there really weren't any. Which, as oddly as it sounded, she felt. They ran down her cheeks, pooling at her throat. Yet, they really didn't.

What is wrong with me?

The vehicle stopped, the abrupt braking rolling her against the side of the bag. Her face smashed up against the material, making it hard to breathe. Violently, the bag was wrenched from the vehicle, jostling her roughly. Again, the uneasy gait rocked her in the bag, this time, nearly causing her to be motion sick.

"Finally. We haven't had a good specimen in weeks," a smooth voice declared as the bag and girl were dropped onto a soft surface.

A grunt replied, followed by the zipper's motion. "Picky, that's what you are."

"Picky? Of course I am picky. This takes talent and hard work. If she isn't perfectly what I want, this whole affair will be nothing but ruin. You don't want that, do you?"

Another grunt and the bag was opened to a dimly lit room. "I don't ask too many questions. I just want my end of the deal fulfilled."

"Oh, you will get what you want. She is exactly what you want, you just don't know it yet." A hand reached into the bag, grabbing her arm and lifted her into the open. "I mean, just look at her. Perfection."

"Those hideous pajamas aren't going to do, not going to make her worth selling." An older man, perhaps in his sixties, looked her over.

"Oh, no, they won't do. I already have the perfect outfit for her. She will be desired."

The light played games with her eyes. Yes, one man seemed old enough to be her grandfather, but the other...was more like her age. And just what were they talking about? What was going on?

* * * * * *


She awoke in a chair, arms tied to the sides. Her body, it seemed, had been bent and situated so she stayed upright and still. Again, she had no control over her movements, her eyes, mouth, fingers. She sat helplessly as the younger man stared into her eyes. His contemplative face filled her view. She wanted to bite at him, gnash her teeth and attack, yet, she couldn't.

He looked away for a moment and she heard the sound of metal hitting metal as he seemingly searched for something. When his eyes returned to her face, he was biting his bottom lip in concentration.

"Where should we start, my lovely? Your face? Your shoulders? Perhaps your torso?" She looked her over with a discerning eye, then nodded his head. "Your face shall be my starting point. I believe that, once I see your face emerge, I will know what to do with the rest of you."

The glimmer of silver winked off to the side. She tried to look at it, but she couldn't. He brought his hand closer to her, gently holding her face and smiled. With his other, he applied the metal to her skin and began to carve. Slow, strong strokes dug into her skin and she screamed. The pain was intense, it burned, felt as if pieces of her was being torn away. With each stroke, she felt as if she was going to die.

She felt the blood run down her skin slowly. Its warmth made her shudder violently as he continued to carve gently into her face. First, he raked the tool over her forehead, cutting away the scars that she had received at age thirteen after falling out of a tree. The blood ran over her face, into her left eye and she tried to blink to remove the crimson stain from her vision.

After what felt like an eternity, he stepped back and looked her over again. Seemingly satisfied, he moved to her cheeks. He plunged the tool into her flesh and dug. The muscle ripped, torn from the connective tissue. Her body shuddered violently as the pain attacked every nerve.

He dug, moving the tool, picking up a new one that seemed smaller yet hurt more. The man stepped back and touched her face lovingly. She watched him pull back the offending appendage, and was surprised to see it clean. She expected something staining his hands as she felt his fingers stick to her blood-slick skin.

"I think that is enough for now, my sweet. Perhaps I will come back later to work on you more." Her vision dimmed as he turned off the lights and she finally was lost to the darkness and unconsciousness.

* * * * * *


The lights flickered on, causing her to recoil from her surroundings. She felt herself blink, though she knew she really didn't. Looking around, she was indeed in that room, with that man... And his tools.

He sat down in front of her, inspecting her face, touching it gently. She reeled from the pain of his touch, but he didn't seem to care. Every nerve in her face screamed out as he casually wiped a warm, wet cloth across her skin. He nodded, seemingly content and looked at her torso, shoulders and arms.

He clucked his tongue. "This... Will not do. What kind of life did you live, young lady? If you ask me, not one worthy of a lady. I must fix this."

He reached into his tool box, the metal chiming as his fingers moved through them. Finally, he settled on one of the tools and looked her over. Cradling one of her arms, he held it in front of her. He applied the tool to her arm, pulling it methodically across her skin. She watched in horror as the skin peeled off of her arm, exposing the muscle beneath. Blood flowed freely, and she wanted to look away before she became ill.

His attention was rapt as he turned her arm over, digging the tool into her shoulder and tugging hard down the back, taking more of her flesh off. She felt herself shaking violently as the pain overwhelmed her senses. She heard as each piece of flesh fell to the floor. He worked without pause, carving her arms down form the well-muscled appendage to something thin and wispy.

He repeated the work on her other arm, periodically, grinding her shoulders down with a small machine that rasped at her skin. The pain was excruciating, she screamed, cried, cursed... Yet he never heard her. He never even flinched when she called him the one thing she knew all men hated being called. He worked on, ignoring her. But it is easy to ignore when your victim can't move her lips.

Exhausted, sick and weak, she watched him examine her bloodied and dissected arms with joy. He smiled at her, his eyes twinkling. "Ah, much better. You had too much muscle, too much strength. The boys won't want you if you are stronger than them."

She felt her own blood running, now slowly, down her legs. She retched, but couldn't throw up. She tried to close her eyes, tried to erase the image of him tearing her apart from her mind, but she couldn't. A voice called from somewhere far, a woman's voice, causing her assailant to rise from his seat. With one final glance her way, he turned off the light, and she gave up to the darkness and allowed her mind to drift into oblivion.

* * * * * *


The light jolted her awake. He was already sitting before her, tools in hand. She found herself completely without clothing and was furious. Not that she didn't expect this day to come, but even so, it had still affected her. Had she the energy, she thought, she would have mauled him by now.

She watched at the tool loomed close to her chest. He studied her form closely, cocking his head, almost as if unsure how to proceed. "I have to say, there isn't much I need to do with your chest. Which is a relief, since I know I have screwed up this part of the female body more times than I wish to admit."

The tool was gently plied to her flesh, carving here, sculpting there. She felt the skin tear, the tool digging just into the muscle underneath. The burning sensation of his tool raking her flesh made her head feel as if it was going to explode. The blood ran freely down her chest and over her stomach. She felt it pool in her lap before finally funneling down her legs.

She watched his face as he concentrated on carving her shape, making her chest what he imagined it should be, not what she was given at birth. He moved to her stomach, adjusting the chair so that it moved back, until she lay prone. The tool moved slowly, nicking here, carving there. She writhed inside herself, desperately trying to get free. Tears fell, burning the exposed muscle and sinew that made up her face now, the salt aggravating her wounds.

Every inch of her body that he had played with thus far roared in pain. Blood congealed or dried, causing more pain. When he moved her, it ripped open wounds that had begun to scab over. And through all of it, her voice was never heard.

He moved to her legs and pulled out a different tool, one with a large blade. He shook his head in disappointment. "Worse than your arms. How could you allow yourself to become so hard? How could you?" His voice rose, alarming her.

He plowed into her leg, digging aggressively. Each stab, each rip into her flesh sent such painful shock through her, that she lost consciousness, only to be pulled out of it through a new pain. He worked fiercely, cutting flesh, tearing muscle, carving her legs more and more as his apparent anger began to be displayed across his face.

"Why did you let yourself develop such musculature? Why? It's appalling!"

A tool scraped under her skin, scooping out tissue.

"Did you not love yourself enough? Did you not think that someone would care if you made yourself look more like a man than a woman?"

A chunk of flesh fell to the floor, cut out by a blade. Her blood ran to the floor, pooling beneath the chair.

"Why must women think they need to be so muscled, so strong? Don't you all know that it is disgusting?!"

She screamed, over and over, for him to stop. She tried to will herself unconscious, so that she would not feel him ripping her body apart. But nothing, nothing worked. She watched, terrified, as he plied his tools to her legs. She watched as blood and flesh was carelessly flung out of his way.

Finally, as her body began to give out, her heart pounding and her eyes seeing red, he stopped. He breathed hard as he sat back to look at her. His face was flushed, a vein in his forehead expanding with each heartbeat. Swallowing slowly, he lifted her to her feet. He spun her limp form, examining each inch.

Here and there he used a tool to touch up spots, smooth out a bump or carve out a detail. Finally, he sat her back down and stepped away.

"My apologies, my sweet, for my outburst. I just get so frustrated with women who allow themselves to become corrupted into abhorrent figures. Tomorrow, we shall finally use you as you were meant to be. I hope you are happy."

The room darkened and she sobbed silently into hands that didn't move.

* * * * * *


He dressed her in silk and velour; bright whites and dark greens flowed about her. She watched as the white silks became saturated with her blood. With each tug on the material to get the dress in place on her body, she felt all the pain from the last few days...or was it weeks, revisit her. The pain made it hard to see what the man was doing.

Eventually, he stood her up, placing a brace around her waist to keep her on her feet. He styled her hair and applied makeup on her raw and torn face. Once he was done, she heard a grunt, then saw the old man step in front of her.

"Good enough. She will do well."

* * * * * *


She looked out from her perch, horrified as a young woman picked her up and looked into her green eyes.

"I wish I looked like you. I had always dreamed of looking like one of the porcelain dolls that I played with as a child."
AQ DF MQ AQW Epic  Post #: 20
11/4/2010 21:41:59   
Eukara Vox
Legendary AdventureGuide!


 Darkness is (not) Your Friend
by Xplayer1

Beware the night. He does not forgive mistakes. He does not give clues. He works in secret. He has no motives.

One cannot defeat the night, but can only hope to evade the grasp of its dark tendrils until the sun of salvation rises out of its grave. However, there are those who have yielded to the force of the night and have allowed it consume and violate their very individuality. The human soul, which usually burns bright with the light of fire, is subject to the cloak of nightfall, a corruption, an unnatural change. The eyes of these humans are dilated and wide, avoiding all light not reflected by the moon. This is the tale of one such keeper of the night, a life spent in darkness.

And so it goes...

There is an ill-defined moment in time when the life and vibrancy of the world succumbs to the death that stalks all life, inevitably catching it when life grows tired of trying to outrun it. It is at this time that one can observe a unique intermingling of life and death. Often this moment serves as a flash of happiness, the last moment of warmth before one freezes to death and all is still.

At the top of the hill near a town on a weekend in late October, mother nature directed, produced, and starred in such an intermingling production. The props were the foliage, trees dashed with snow and sprinkled with the last of the autumn leaves. The actors were the animals, mammals scurrying to store food for the winter and insects bidding farewell to the world, knowing that their eggs would hatch in the Spring when the world will be reborn. The lighting was provided by one light, the sun with its palette of colors made visible during the sunset. Spectators for such a scene are few; the hustle and rabble of society simply do not have the time. While the seats are usually empty for such a show, this time there were two in attendance: a fifteen-year-old girl named Nible (which rhymes with "knee play") and her red fox pup named Nipper (or "Nip" for short).

"Today will likely be the season finale of the show, Nip," the girl said quietly to her fox. "The last sunset is said to be the best." She sat down on the grass, moist with melted snow, and gazed into the gathering of trees at the crest of the hill. Nip sat in her lap with anticipation, and Nible satisfied his begging by gently stroking his rosy coat. The wind was a steady force, causing the tops of trees to sway like the weight of a grandfather clock turned upside down.

The two waited for about ten minutes; Nible had already determined the optimal time for viewing nature’s performance that day. However, instead of the scene blossoming into an array of beauty, the landscape got darker as storm clouds rolled across the sky from the horizon. Shadows grew across the ground like a mutated vine, eventually covering the whole terrain. Nible looked upward towards the sky, watching the steam of her breath evaporate into invisible vapor. A drop of cold water plopped on her forehead. Drops turned to drizzle, drizzle turned to downpour. Nible and Nip dashed up the mucky hill and took shelter under a broad oak tree. The rain on her face diluted the salt of her tears, which Nip eagerly licked off her cheeks.

"Life doesn’t always go according to plan. Prophesy and clairvoyance are fading arts; predictions from the world beyond are falling to the empirical proofs of science. I was born during a bridge between these times, during the time of sorcery and occult and the era of thought and proof. My parents, however, were of the old times when there was nothing but magic to allow one to survive in Errwood, the land of the social outcasts.

So when my mother became pregnant with me, they went to a soothsayer, who predicted that I would be a great leader among the people, a pillar of society that could lead our land back to the prominence of its sister town Sherwood. I would have been...I could have. But I wasn’t. I was born not with the white skin of my parents, nor the earthen brown hair. Rather, I resembled a pebble picked from a faraway desert, a girl with a dark tan and hair blacker than night. Upon my cheeks were blazoned two Xs in the form of scars, the two nails that hold me to the life I now live.

My mother nearly dropped me when she saw them, and my father simply looked away. The witch doctor told my parents apologetically that these signs were of those who brought misfortune, and that I would live a cursed life, an unfulfilling life, one without luck or promise. Also, due to other circumstances surrounding my birth, my mother would never be able to bear another child. My mother never for one day of my life allowed me to forget this dishonor brought upon the household of William. Each time she calls my name, she tells me I am ‘the one without blessing.’ Nible. Not even with a surname. Just Nible, an outcast among outcasts."

At these moments, the lowest of one’s life, it is natural to have one’s mind fall into despair. Sadness is cumulative, not relative, so while thinking of a worse memory could possibly make the present more bearable, it often adds to the feeling of hopelessness experienced at the moment. For Nible, her mind decided to return to a particular summer day, a precious moment alone with her father.

The sun filtered through the green summer leaves hanging over the river, which would occasionally be blown into the trickling water by the wind. The temperature was a perfect 67 degrees, and nothing but the babble of the brook made any noise within earshot. This secret place was the last fortress of solitude in Errwood, away from the prying eyes of wives, mothers, and neighbors who felt it their duty to create gossip about everyone whom they didn’t like. Nible sat on a rock at the bank of the creek, tossing stones into the diminishing stream as her father stood above a small waterfall looking towards where the water ended.

"I’m very sorry, Nible," the father humbly told his daughter.

"For what?" Nible asked without looking up from the water.

"Superstitions can allow a man to destroy himself, dictating his decisions until he doesn’t even know if he’s following the right path. Following the light of a specter could lead one to viewing someone you love as an enemy." The father paused. "I’m such a kid. Why? For so long..."

The father jumped down from the top of the small waterfall, a distance of about five feet. As if in slow motion, he slipped on the rock below, and was unable to catch himself. His head fell back and smacked the edge of the shale. The rest of his body crumpled into a heap under the falling water; his face was baptized by the stream. In shock, Nible dashed to her father and pulled his body through the rocks and weeds out of the river. He wasn’t moving. She sprinted two and a half miles back home along the river, tears flying from her face. Upon arriving home, she only managed to sputter, "Father... slipped... river... help... quickly..." before collapsing on the wood floor of the dining room.

The rest of the day was spent in a haze, either dreaming about the fall while asleep or hallucinating about it while awake. A tight knot formed in Nible’s chest, one of sorrow and guilt, one of the curse of which she was constantly reminded. There was nothing but loneliness and helplessness, no silver lining of consolation, just the entire weight of her father’s life beating against her breast.

Nible awoke at nightfall to the fuming face of her mother. Her mother’s anger turned to rage as her daughter woke up, and she hissed through her teeth, "I had almost hoped that you would never wake up, stay dead like your father. Then at least the suffering would end." Her eyes turned a psychotic red as she continued in a distorted, almost demonic voice, "At least now I can make you suffer. You will atone for this, and perhaps this is a curse that can be beaten out of you." She pulled a doll out of her pocket, a generic ragdoll with the same long black hair of Nible, marked with the two red Xs on its cheeks in blood. Nible watched as her mother walked to the nearest wooden post on the first floor of their two story house, used to hold up the floor of the second story. She pinned the doll to the wood and materialized a whip, which had simple bludgeons on the end rather than the hooks that would tear the doll to shreds. As Nible watched from the bed, her mother beat the doll, and the pain instantly transferred to her back. As blow after blow landed on her spine, the pain was quickly distributed through every nerve of her body, making every cell burn. Yet, physically, she was completely unharmed, no bruises on her back or any broken bones, an efficient torture. Nible accepted every strike without resistance.

Home was always a difficult place to which to return, but each night, her mother would do nothing more than give her a stare, say her name, and possibly give her instructions for her chores. There was no difference tonight, and Nible simply climbed the ladder to her room on the upper floor. There was no work to do that night, so although it was early, Nible wished that the pattering of the rain on her window would soothe her to sleep, but life would not be so kind to her. Memories replayed like a broken record, and not a single one brought happiness or condolence. The curse was relentless and true, but perhaps came into existence through simple belief in it. "Could it really be that simple?" she thought as she stared at her lit bedside lamp. "If no one believes in a god, does he cease to exist? If no one believes in a devil, does he cease to exist? If no one believes in a curse?" With the first small glimmer of hope in her heart she experienced in a long while, Nible fell into slumber.

Awaking was a disorienting and confusing experience. She was facedown in the mud of five hours of heavy rain, but the rain had stopped temporarily. The cold air bit at her skin covered by a black dress, which she did not remember ever wearing to bed. Her hands were trembling, and as she raised her head out of the mud, she found herself in the middle of the woods at the top of the hill. Clinging to any sense of familiarity, Nible called for Nip, who replied with a hearty bark as he jumped into her arms and licked her face.

Stumbling through roots and rocks, Nible found the edge of the forest and overlooked the town of Errwood. At first, the dark landscape looked uniform, not a single light lit at this hour of the morning. Then, out of the corner of her eye, like a lost golden ring found in a dark corner of the room, she spotted the light of fire emanating from one of the houses. It did not take long before she realized that despite the heavy rain and moist wood, her house was burning before her eyes. She began to dash down the hill, but Nip ran out in front of her and rebuked her. Nible sadly sat down on the muddy slope and spoke to Nip softly, "I guess you’re right. Going back to the scene of the crime would be foolish now. Even if it wasn’t I who caused this fire, this catastrophe, this... murder?" She had a vision of a corpse burning in the corner of the room after a desperate search for escape. She regathered her thoughts. "Even if I wasn’t responsible, it’s only natural that people in the village will blame me."

Nible began to run with Nip by her side. There was no direction in particular, just away from the infernal town of Errwood, never to return. After running about a mile, she reached the creek and an old wooden bridge that spanned it. She and Nip crossed over, and before continuing, Nible looked back. She focused on the bridge intently, reaching down into the deepest parts of her heart and mind. Suddenly, the bridge burst into flames, incinerating despite the fact that it was drenched by the rain. As if nature took her cue, it began to snow lightly, and Nible tasted a snowflake on her tongue. She turned around past the burning bridge and said to herself, "I guess it’s all true. I am alone. Who will be my companion?" Nip spoke up with an affirmative bark. As Nible faced the darkness, her eyes glowed not red but blue.

"Hello, my friend. My name is Nible, meaning ‘the one without blessing.’ I hope that you can aid me on my journey. Those who are lonely make good companions."
AQ DF MQ AQW Epic  Post #: 21
11/4/2010 22:05:44   
Eukara Vox
Legendary AdventureGuide!


 Me, Myself and I
by balubamboto


I often take the time and ponder
About my problem and start to wonder,
Why is this happening to me?
And why does heaven ignore my plea?

Whatever place I go and whoever I meet,
I can’t make a connection and lousy I treat,
I feel uneasy and always very strange,
I try to adapt and try to change.

It does not work, whatever I do,
Dark thoughts in my head continue to brew!
All living things, I see them different,
Things without meaning but specific scent.

What’s even worse is that a presence
Is always near me acting like a fence.
It scares me so much! I so want it gone!
Feels forever linked to me, from dusk till dawn.

These pathetic beings, I hate being like them.
A part of this world, another rotten stem!
Time once again to kill another weed,
From every single vein I want it to bleed!

Sometimes the stench is so powerful,
It doesn’t come off even with steel wool.
What must I do to feel a little ease?
Maybe another life, swiftly to seize?!

Look at all of them swarming around here,
Not gonna just sit down and act like a seer!
Time for the hunt. I can taste the horror.
Deep in hearts and minds I act like a borer.

Capture another one; this is such a feeling,
A fun game to play, I like when they’re kneeling.
My ecstasy comes when the last breath is taken,
This critter called doctor named me a shaken.

What point is there to live when all I see is darkness?
I’ve talked to some people, they said it’s just stress.
All I see is misery, thieves, filth and despair,
Most people ignore it, for me it’s too much to bear.

I am all alone although I have friends.
I feel only nothing, can’t go with the trends.
It’s here on this bridge, with the wind and the dark,
I take the last step; become another chalk mark.
AQ DF MQ AQW Epic  Post #: 22
11/4/2010 22:07:04   
Eukara Vox
Legendary AdventureGuide!


 Nightmares
by Dragonnightwolf

It all began with a dream. A dream that quickly turned into a nightmare, forsaken and betrayed by the gods of Greece: those who I had followed for years. And now I was left dark and alone, my brother and his son slain by my hand, their souls left to dwell in the underworld, their blood poured on my hands.

It had all happened so fast, so suddenly. One minute I was killing the enemy and the next I mistakenly killed my own kin. Caught up in the rage the swords of Apollo gave to me, I saw neither friend nor foe. Only targets. Targets, which must come tumbling down, like so many pillars of salt. When I finally passed on to the realm of dark nightmares, eight pieces of the golden amulet of Khal had been shattered and separated. Were they ever to become whole once more? I will walk the plains between the nightmares and the living. All shall feel my vengeance and fury.

“That’s pretty much all we can make out so far.” Eloria smiled at the tourists, dressed in their long-sleeved shirts and various styles of pants and shoes or high heels. “Does anybody have any questions?” she asked, gazing at the gathered group.

One little boy towards the back raised a hand. He was wearing a red shirt with “Bones Forever” on it. He had long brown hair and dark green eyes.

“Yes?” Eloria asked, gazing directly at the boy.

“Is any of this true or is this just, ya know, stuff you make up on the fly?” the boy asked with a disinterested look.

“Well, young man,” Eloria replied, “these are the hieroglyphs right here, so if you can read them yourself and doubt our top archeologists' skill in the language, well, then you are more than welcome to interpret the text yourself.”

The boy shrugged. “Nah, I believe ya.”

“Come along, Matthew, Miss Myers is indicating that it’s time for us to leave,” a plump round woman stated matter-of-factly to her charge. She was dressed in an overly expensive gown with lots of fake jewelry on it. She harrumphed and walked away with the boy in tow.

Eloria muttered under her breath. “Stuck-up little brat.”

The day proceeded without further incidents, so when it was time to close the museum for the night all but security, two professors, and one mischievous 12-year-old kid remained in the building.

Jim Allison, 12 years old, had gone wandering away from mommy once again, only this time he was inexplicably lost inside the museum. Jim accidentally tripped over one of the cases containing a glowing golden shard.

“Come, youth, come put together the puzzle and be rewarded for your efforts,” a voice in the darkness, perhaps from the shard, stated.

Jim stared at the shard for a long time until his thoughts became clouded.

“Yes. Must put the puzzle back together,” he muttered.

A few moments later, cases were being smashed open as the shards instructed the youth where to go next. Finally it came down to the very last piece, but the voice steered Jim to the swords of Apollo.

“Lift the swords, boy. Lift the swords,” the ghostly voice whispered into his mind, repeatedly. So strong was the urge that Jim had no choice but to obey. He steadily lifted up the swords and stuck his hand into the shattered remains of the last container, reaching for the final shard. An alarm went off, calling security’s attention.

“Okay, son, drop the weapons and put your hands behind your head.”

Jim’s hand closed over the last shard, but his smile stayed. Then his eyes turned to a deep red color.

“Oh, I’m afraid it’s much too late for that, you fools,” the voice stated, not Jim’s but an all-together ghostly voice coming from him. There was an unhealthy glow of red as the final shard went into place. The amulet became whole once more.

The two officers aimed their guns but the bullets bounced harmlessly away from Jim once the swords of Apollo began to spin. A flash of purple light from the swords cast an eerie glow on the museum walls. There was one cry followed by another of absolute terror as the officers were slain.

Other staff and security heard the cries, but when they all arrived the two officers were gone; all that remained were some small spots where what looked like red paint had been splashed. One by one, security fell like flies on a wall. The end result was the same: there was little evidence to show what had happened to each individual. It was as if an angry hornet's nest had been set into motion. The number of individuals still alive was dwindling—that was until Zeus took over a mortal’s body. Eyes flashing gold, he sought out the apparition.

The conflict of times old and forgotten had come. Zeus stared at the apparition with a narrowed look of hatred.

“So, it is you who has been causing havoc in this new city. I should have known as soon as the swords of Apollo were taken up that it was someone with revenge in mind,” Zeus said.

“So, the almighty Father has come down from his perch to pay tribute to a former glory, has he?” the apparition responded casually. “Pah. I spit on your name, Zeus. You, the god of all Olympus. I shall enjoy casting you into eternal darkness.” Hatred filled the apparition's eyes.

“Don’t be a fool, you cannot hope to defeat me,” Zeus bellowed. Walls as thick as marble shook and trembled at the echo of his voice.

And so it was that the two combatants, locked within spheres of all-powerful battle fury, came at one another in fierce bout. Zeus, though in a mortal shell, and the apparition, whose name was so far and from long ago that it had been forgotten, were able to slip into the absolute realm of non-entities to ensure that they did not inflict only physical but spiritual damage as well.

Zeus struck a critical blow with a lightning bolt that sent the apparition sprawling on the ground, withering in agony. It was then that Zeus cast the apparition from this mortal plane of existence, sending the spirit to the underworld once and for all.

The carnage was over and the mortal body of the boy lay still and broken. The apparition had utterly used up every resource of the boy, giving him no sleep, food, nor water while in transient existence. Zeus took pity on the boy’s overused form and returned to the boy the life he had so inexplicably lost.

Zeus also made sure the mortal body he had inhabited was well rewarded for allowing the god to take command. Leaving behind a merest trace of his power by allowing this mortal to be successful in all endeavors that he put his mind into, Zeus had repaid his passage to the mortal plane and now headed back to Olympus where he went back to doing what it is that the God of all gods does: watching over all activities going on in the mortal realm.

So ends the nightmare of the amulet of Khal and the apparition of doom.
AQ DF MQ AQW Epic  Post #: 23
11/7/2010 1:11:21   
Eukara Vox
Legendary AdventureGuide!


 Werewolves
by Dragonnightwolf

“All right, people, listen up. What you’re about to see is footage found at the crime scene. We don’t need any more looky-loos or Herald news reporters poking their noses around, got it?” This query came from Captain Mike Reynolds.

One of the officers was listening in to KDRF, a news radio program that was talking about the mysterious disappearances of an entire FBI, SWAT, and Army Reserve command. All had vanished without explanation. There were about twenty officers in the room listening to the Chief, who spoke up, “Remember that what you’re about to see is not to be given to any of the local papers.”

The chief attached the video camera to the television and hit play. A message popped into view. It read: Know this. Whosoever watches this video will be cursed and doomed.

“What the? That wasn’t on there when I reviewed it, Mason,” Chief Williker commented.

“It does seem highly unusual, sir,” Mason Pitch replied, gazing at the screen. So far as anyone knew, no one but the chief had seen the video thus far.

The picture went into full focus after a moment of blurriness. A smiling lady with red hair and green-brown eyes looked directly at the camera. She was dressed in blue jeans and a professional looking top. A title was printed in that moment that said “Jenny Winograd, Reporter."

“Hey, Mike? Who’s the camera guy?” Captain Reynolds asked.

“Uh… Morton Swiss,” Mike Terrace replied, gazing up from his papers.

“Hello, this is Jenny Winograd. I’m here live with the downtown SWAT team captain. He has graciously allowed us to join his team on tonight’s mystery. What can you tell us, Mr. Jessby?”

Mr. Jacob Jessby, a professional SWAT team captain for over 45 years, spoke into the microphone. “We’re investigating the disappearance of thirty-five civilians last seen in this vicinity.” The camera took a shot of the structure: a large abandoned park.

“No word yet as to how they all vanished?” Winograd questioned.

“No. They all mysteriously vanished without a trace, so we’re going to do a little investigating tonight and see what comes up.” Jessby smiled.

He motioned the camera back and then informed Jenny to wait a moment. As the other units arrived, Jacob approached Federal Agent Mike Edwards and Military Correspondent Army Reserve Lieutenant Chris O’Neil for planning a strategy.

“All right, listen up. We have no clue to what’s going on in this park, but we don’t want any heroes. Now, Bravo and I will take the Northeast sector. Tango will take the Southwest sector. And Charlie will take the Western sector,” Chris stated in a disciplined manner.

As the teams split up, Jenny followed Jessby. The camera shook while moving through the park to the Southwest sector. The walkie-talkie picked up a crackle followed by O’Neil’s team.

“What the heck is that?”

Various messages all came from O’Neil’s team, but Jenny had been unable to obtain any names due to military protocol about keeping soldiers identities secret.

“Oh my god! He got swallowed!”

“Holy Sakes Alive! It moves fast.”

“Keep firing, keep firing! All units report to Northeast sector, I repeat—yearrrgh!”

Sounds of distant gunfire ceased in a matter of seconds as the communication to Tango went dead.

“Bravo, come in. Over.” Jacob could hear through the talkie the call from Agent Edwards. “Bravo, do you copy?”

“Bravo, please respond," Jacob added to the voices.

Jenny stared out, stunned, and then went to her report. “Tango, a code-named military unit with Chris O’Neal and his team have suddenly gone silent. It makes this reporter wonder why everything is so quiet.”

Suddenly, Edwards' voice came over the walkie-talkie.

“What in the name of Uncle Sam?! Open fire! Charlie, you'd better get over here quickly,” Edwards commanded.

“On our way,” Jessby replied, motioning his team towards that side of the park. Jenny ran alongside some of them. It was getting darker outside so people had to switch on flashlights and headlamps and the camera light was turned on as well. The entire scene they came to was surreal, without a trace of anyone—even though Edwards' team had just been there on the spot.

“Okay,” Jenny said, staring at her cameraman. “This is getting creepy now. AHH!” Her scream had the camera swing towards the west as an echoed roar came from the trees. Two SWAT members advanced. They gave a quick signal by hand to each other and snuck off into the treeline, disappearing from sight.

It took only a few moments before a scream was heard followed by gunfire.

“Williams! Gonzales! Where are you?” Frank Tomoque called out. Some kind of meaty limb like that from an animal dropped down next to Frank’s shoes.

“What the h—” Frank's commentary was cut off by a large object dropping onto him and crushing him into the ground. The video became slightly blurry as fire erupted nearby, burning three SWAT members, and something quickly lunged forward, taking down Officer Ramirez.

Jenny screamed while the cameraman yelled in the background, “Oh, Holy Cripes!” Then the camera dropped, and both Jenny and her cameraman were seen vanishing into the mouth of a very large dragon.

“Woah. What do you make of that, Earl? Earl?” The chief switched off the video and ejected it. He turned around to see why no one responded, only to find all his men dead except for two. He stared at the two of them wide-eyed, reaching for his gun.

“Don’t bother, Chief, you don’t have any bullets,” Tony Scars said, smiling. Teeth of dark red and white glistened in the moonlight coming through a window.

Rodney also smiled and closed his claws for a moment.

“But, but, you’ve been on the force for twelve years. We even dated the same gal back in high school,” the chief stuttered, looking on with awestruck disbelief. “How did you—“ the chief started, frowning.

“The tape did warn you, Chief. We knew about the Ancient Dragon all this time. Found it around the time we… uh… changed,” Rodney said.

“We can’t allow you to live, Chief; no one's supposed to know about that tape. After tonight, no one will ever know,” Tony finished.

While Tony suddenly plunged his claws and teeth into the chief, Rodney calmly walked over and ripped the wires from the TV. He tossed the TV out the window, then tossed the camera to the floor and stepped on it. In the end, Rodney took the videotape with him through an unmarked door.

Inside, there was a comfortable looking chair, which Rodney dropped the tape onto and sat down upon, hearing a satisfying, crushing, breaking sound.

“Case. Closed,” Rodney said, a grin plastered across his face.
AQ DF MQ AQW Epic  Post #: 24
11/16/2010 17:55:02   
Eukara Vox
Legendary AdventureGuide!


 Dark signs
by superjars

Darkness.
Black lines drip down the pages of his life
Inky smears to remind him
Of the pain and torment
Of his past.
Blotting out each event as it passes
Into the nooks and crannies
Where he hides his deepest
And darkest thoughts.

Pain.
Red heat, poking and prodding in the deepest
Recesses of his mind, searching
And hunting for the end results
Of his madness.
Covering all that it touches in the deep crimson
Stains, the final brands of a life
Which brought nothing but pain
To all it touched.

Insanity.
Blues and greens, spinning and whirling through
His vision, his voice crying out
At times with happiness, then
Turning swiftly to anger.
Flooding his senses with the range of human
Emotion, pushing the boundaries
Of all that he cared about, the last
Solace of his life.

And then, love;
He finds it where he least expects,
Despite the fuzz in his own mind,
Flowing outwards from those who surround him.
It calls to him,
It knows the name that he never
Shared with anyone else, the
Golden name of the one whose death brought him here.
Sanity.

He reaches out
And with nothing left to lose, he
Embraces those who are there to
Walk beside him on this saddening path he treads.
He lets things go,
Things which kept him trapped
Behind the curtains of his life;
Scarlet curtains which directed the end of each scene.
Relief.

His thoughts pure,
Filled with the good hopes of all
Who came alongside him each
And every day as he cared for his dying wife
He steps to the edge
The choir raises their trumpets
Letting out a solemn call, while
White figures urge him on into their desired course.
Light.

A brightness fading into the darkness.
Joy descending into pain and despair.
The sane mind gives into its demons.
And all that is left is the leap…
AQ DF MQ AQW Epic  Post #: 25
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